


The Phoenix Potion

by FedonCiadale



Series: Phoenix Potion Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, Auror Pansy, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Canon bent, Complete, Courtroom Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Flashbacks, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, House Elves, Missing Scenes, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Mystery, Not Beta Read, Teacher Neville, The Sacred Twenty-Eight (Harry Potter), There are still issues in the wizarding world, This is my ridiculous headcanon, Twenty years after the war, but a happy ending, much angst, there will be flashbacks to canon era, this takes place in 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 111
Words: 237,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FedonCiadale/pseuds/FedonCiadale
Summary: Twenty years after the battle of Hogwarts.... Harry is head auror and is worried about cases where Muggleborn children meet with accidents, Ron is a famous Quidditch keeper. Both haven't talked to Hermione for ages and certainly not to her husband, Draco Malfoy. Narcissa Malfoy struggles with a curse, and Neville and Luna try to stay friends with all.The key to solving the problems may lie in the past, a time nobody really wants to revisit and some can't.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Series: Phoenix Potion Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026012
Comments: 2445
Kudos: 970





	1. Cut out

**Author's Note:**

> I have decided to revisit the Dramione ship and write about this, my very favourite and probably ridiculous headcanon. It will probably take some time before the title of the fic becomes clear, but just stay with me.  
> There will be flashbacks to the canon era, slightly bent for the sole purpose of making Dramione more plausible and for preparing some of the twists that come along.  
> I am not a native speaker, so please have some patience with my mistakes.  
> I have no idea how often I will be able to update.  
> But this story never truly left me and I finally decided to just write it down.  
> If some things do look strange at first, have a little patience. Some important things happened after the Battle of Hogwarts and they will be revealed in time.  
> Just for the record: I am aware that "Ron bashing" is a sensitive subject. He might have a temper in this fic and he has his troubles, but I do not intend to paint him as a bad person.

When Harry entered the kitchen of Grimmauld place, he saw Ron was already awake despite the early hour. He suppressed a curse. Their unexpected guest sat with his back to Harry and clung to the mug of coffee his sister had brewed for him. Apparently, he was not yet sober enough to work an anti-hangover spell. Harry felt for Ron and he would do his best to console his friend, whose wife had walked out, but he had estimated that Ron would still be asleep.

Harry pointed at his watch, hoping that Ginny would take the hint. “I really have to leave”, Harry mouthed to his wife, in the hope, that he could sneak out before Ron would realize he was gone. If Ron knew where he was going it would not help his mood.

Ginny gave a barely perceptible nod and Harry mouthed a thank you before he began tiptoeing out. He could count on getting coffee or tea later.

Somehow, even with a brain that probably was addled by grief, regret, anger, and a fair amount of firewhiskey, Ron noticed him and turned.

Harry felt caught, when Ron’s gaze fell on the coat and the case he had put under his arm, even though it was not unusual that he had early working hours.

He harrumphed. “I have a meeting at eight.”

“It’s the bloody holidays”, Ron said. “Who would set a meeting for eight.”

Harry felt his cheeks flushing. Even after all these years, he still had difficulties lying to his best friend. He cursed the timing of his friend’s recent reiteration of “irreconcilable differences” with wife number three.

He sighed.

“Narcissa Malfoy.”

“What?”

“She has been clearing the Manor of Dark Artefacts ever since Lucius died. It is my duty as head auror to collect them, once she has declared them safe. And destroy them.”

Ron frowned.

“Is this connected to your suspicion of new death eater activity?”

“Of course not. This is a regular appointment, Ron. Mrs. Malfoy has been nothing but helpful.” Ginny chimed in.

“Still, the aurors could observe some of the..,” Ron waved indistinctively with his hand, “… old bunch. That might give you a lead to the problem of these accidents you told me about.”

Harry sighed. “We actually discussed this in the department, and we might be desperate enough to try that.”

He was not surprised, when he saw a glint in Ron’s eye. He used to discuss everything with Ron, and it was a habit, that had proved to be hard to break. And talking about his work had distracted Ron from his own problems, when he had arrived late last night.

He shot his friend a warning look though, when he opened his mouth. Harry just knew who Ron would suggest for observation. And observing Draco Malfoy would land Harry in a real pickle.

“Pansy will be waiting, darling,” Ginny said.

Ron scoffed. “Pansy bloody Parkinson. Second to the Head Auror.”

“Pansy Longbottom, Ron, you know that. And she deserved the promotion. I should have done it years ago. I have to go.”

Since there was no point in sneaking out any longer, Harry went around the table and gave his wife a quick peck.

Their eyes met and Ginny nodded. She would take care of Ron.

Harry left the house and disapparated.

***

Pansy was already waiting, and they slowly went to the gate of the Manor side by side.

“Hi Harry,” she said. “Happy new year! Did you have a nice New Year’s Eve?”

“We went to the Burrow and it was the usual ruckus. And you?”

“Neville and I stayed with … friends.”

Harry was tempted to roll his eyes. As if he didn’t know.

“Did you celebrate your promotion?”

“You mean the long overdue promotion?”. Pansy grinned. “Neville’s words not mine.”

“I know, he happened to say that to my face as well.”

Pansy laughed. “I suspected as much. So, why do you bring me along? Does this meeting really need the head auror and the second?”

Harry shook his head. “No, it is more a favour to Mrs. Malfoy.”

Pansy arched an eyebrow. “How?”

“You are in a far better position to tell her what she really wants to know. You know about …. your friends…”

Harry’s hand hovered over the bars of the gate.

“Narcissa Malfoy hands objects of dark magic over to _you_ of all people in return for information on Draco?”, Pansy asked.

“Shht.” Harry silenced her. “Don’t mention his name, not at all.”

“I don’t understand. She could just apparate there and ask him. Dr… I mean, he would be beside himself. He never wanted to fall out with his mother. He would probably sing with joy.”

“He sings? I can hardly believe that.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Harry made a face. “I try not to picture that. Anyway, I thought you knew? You being a pureblood and all that.”

“Know what?”

“Well, you know, he wasn’t just disowned… He was cut out?”

“Cut out as in cursed out? Lucius Malfoy went that far?” Pansy’s eyes had widened.

“To be fair, it is entirely possible, that he did it by accident. It is not easy to talk about it, because you never know how the magic of the curse might react. If I understood correctly, it was a matter of wording. Great- grandfather Sammael Malfoy went to great lengths to protect the Malfoy name and the purity of the line. And Lucius managed to use the exact wording necessary to trigger the cutting out curse, when he disowned …. him.”

Harry studied her face. Her surprise seemed genuine.

“I thought, you knew, I thought everybody knew.”

Pansy scoffed. “Well, everybody knows about the disinheritance. And obviously everybody knows about Sammael’s stupid house elf pact. Sammael Malfoy might never have been famous in his lifetime but certainly is now. But this is just… I don’t know what to say.”

“But you do see the problem now?”

Pansy grimaced. “As long as Lucius was alive, the Manor probably was under control. But now, there is no heir… Poor Narcissa, she probably can’t even leave the house.”

“No, she can’t.”

“And I’ve always thought … this was about … his … situation.” Pansy shook her head. “I should know better by now than just to presume. Does …. her son know?”

“Be careful. That expression makes a connection. Still too close for the magic. And obviously I have no fucking idea if he knows, Pansy, or if he thinks this is about him being basically a squib.”

His temper was on a short fuse today. Ron’s appearance had opened old wounds. “You know very well, that we are not exactly on speaking terms. I’ve made my choice, ages ago. You are his friend. You tell me.”

Pansy tapped her lips with her wand in an involuntary gesture Harry knew well enough from years of working with her. She gave the question some thought.

“Even if he would be able to talk about it, I doubt he would have told anyone but his wife. He can be a secretive arsehole.”

Harry scoffed. “Leave out the adjective. He can be an arsehole.”

What was wrong with him? He had not fought with Pansy over Draco Malfoy for years and now was not the moment to start it. Ron and his bloody fall out with his wife had gotten under his skin.

Pansy’s face distorted only shortly, but then her face smoothed again. She probably had decided to be mature about this.

“So, to sum up. I am supposed to give her information without triggering any nasty side effects of the curse.”

“Exactly.” Harry sighed. “I can tell you from experience, that that can be disagreeable. So, this is a social call, not business.”

“Should I just call him You-know-who, then?”

Harry laughed despite himself. “Don’t you dare!”

“Well, no names, got that, ring the bell then, boss.”

***

It took them a while to walk through the park and they unanimously decided to talk about more neutral subjects and it was a testimony to Harry’s mood that he was relieved they were talking about the recent raise in what they unofficially called death eater return activities.

“I agree it is not a coincidence. I mapped these dangerous ‘accidents’ with Muggleborn children and there is a peak in Wiltshire which seems to exceed the usual statistic spike.” Pansy told him.

“We have no evidence for wizards of witches involved, though,” Harry argued.

“But there has been evidence of magic being wielded. And that really worries me. I suspect they use Muggle devices. Muggles have invented all kinds of things over the last decade.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know the exact name. But these things fly, and you can guide them with a smartphone, you know one of these portable devices. They would have to find a way to transport a curse. You know, encase it and apply it later.”

Pansy paused and gave him a side look from under her lashes. “If you want me to, I’ll look into that possibility.”

Harry grimaced. The idea made too much sense. “Yes, please do that, just in case.”

He knew where Pansy would get her information, and he disliked it. He did not want to be in anybody’s debt, least of all Draco’s. Years as an auror had taught him though, that he could not afford to be too picky. But he would have to be careful around Ron.

“If they indeed use muggle devices, are they just bloody hypocrites or does this mean they have connection to muggles? And what kind of muggle would even collaborate with them?”

What kind of muggles, indeed. It frightened Harry. He probably should recruit someone with good knowledge about the Muggle world, a Squib maybe, or a Muggle who knew about the wizarding world. He knew that his own knowledge on Muggle things was far behind. He wondered if they were just lucky, that no Muggleborn had died yet.

“We’ll have to find that out. As for what kind of muggles, I’d say that there are idiots and villains in both worlds.”

“True enough.”

Narcissa Malfoy opened the door herself.

“Mr Potter and Mrs Longbottom, please come in and be my guest.”

She led them into a small parlour, where coffee and tea had been prepared. Harry had been right. He would get his coffee after all.


	2. Photos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy visit Narcissa. They skirt around the cut out curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I am in a writing flash.... So here is a second chapter.

Pansy knew that Harry was usually not a talker, but the small talk with Narcissa went smoothly as if Harry had long practice.

It was the usual pureblood gossip Pansy had embraced as a girl but now considered a nuisance. They talked about Theodore Nott, who had scandalized society by becoming a writer for children’s books, about his beautiful wife Daphne Greengrass, about their twins.

Pansy tried to channel her inner teenage girl and chimed in after a while. They talked about music, about quidditch. Ron Weasley was quite a prominent subject for a while, when they discussed how “Weasley is our king” keeper had saved the day for England in the recent Quidditch world cup.

“Still as quick as he was in his Hogwarts’ days playing for Gryffindor”, Pansy said. “The Weasleys have a knack for playing Quidditch, don’t they?”

Narcissa asked after Richard then, Ron’s son who was practically raised by Ginny and Harry, and this led to Hogwarts.

“How is your husband doing as a teacher, Pansy? He has started this school year, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, Neville finally had enough of auroring and field work. He always loved herbology and he wanted to work with children.”

“The students love him. He must be the most popular teacher ever, if you believe my children.”

“I can easily believe that. The dashing Gryffindor, ex- auror and war hero.” Pansy smiled. “I should know.”

“Do you want to see a picture?”, Harry asked. “I happen to have some in my case.”

“A picture of a dashing war hero? Why not?”

Harry took an envelope out of his case.

Narcissa opened the envelope. Her fingers were trembling.

“Taken with a muggle camera.”

Neville was indeed on the photo and Pansy herself. She remembered the day. They had made an outing to Lewes castle on a hot summer day, with Hermione’s parents and all the children. She shot a quick look to her boss, arching her eyebrow. She would have questions for him later.

“Ah! Look that’s me, not as dashing as Neville of course. And these are friends of ours.” She pointed at Draco as if Narcissa would not know him. Draco had little Robert riding on his shoulders. He was dressed in a green shirt, a white band over his left arm to cover the Dark Mark. Robert was his usual bubbly self. Pansy could almost hear his happy gurgling. She felt a pang.

Narcissa looked at her, a bare hunger in her eyes, eager and focused, as if she did not want to miss one piece of information.

Pansy continued, as if this was not of more consequence than the idle chatter, they had shared before. She randomly looked through the photos and talked a lot about the marvellous outing with her dashing husband. Occasionally she put in information about her ‘friends’.

“You could think they are trying to produce a Quidditch team on their own. They have many children”. That should be the right amount of gossipy. Harry laughed at that.

“There is the eldest daughter. She is in Slytherin, seeker for the team and head girl. She is responsible for Slytherin earning the house cup three times in a row.” Rina’s blond hair had caught the sunlight, and the similarity to her father was stunning. Narcissa hastily wiped her eyes.

“It’s nice to hear that Slytherin has capable students.”

“Here’s my godson. He is in Gryffindor, third year, if you can believe that.” Colin was a spitting image of his mother. Even with his hair cut short, the curls were still visible.

Pansy went on a detour about Neville as new head of Gryffindor house and managed to squeeze in information about Colin’s good grades.

“Ah, there are two more girls. This one is in Hufflepuff and the other one will start in Hogwarts this summer. If she won’t be sorted into Ravenclaw, I’ll eat the talking hat.” Pansy pointed to Lizzie and Meg who stood on a low wall. Hermione stood at the foot of the wall, waving at the girls.

“Four children in different houses, how unusual,” Narcissa commented.

“Yes, Neville says, it’s retribution for the parents being too much into the house rivalry, when they were at Hogwarts.”

“What about the fifth child?”

“Well, I always say, that they should just send him to another school, but he’s just two.” Pansy looked at Robert and felt the pang again. Draco and Hermione had not planned this child. Pansy remembered how difficult a time that had been for her and Neville.

“The House rivalry has improved considerably.” Harry chimed in.

“How about you, Pansy?” Narcissa Malfoy asked. “Wouldn’t you like some children of your own?”

Such a harmless question. Pansy drew a laboured breath and willed her tears away.

“I had a run-in with a very nasty curse, just when Neville and I had started dating. Thanks to Laurence Fishguard I’ll never get children of my own.”

Harry audibly sucked in a breath.

“Dangers of being an auror,” Pansy added.

Narcissa took her hand. “I am so sorry. I should not have asked. Life is not fair.”

Pansy closed her eyes for a short moment. “I’ve known for two years, enough time to come to terms with it. But this is actually the reason why Neville has started teaching.”

“And you, Pansy?”

“I’m a natural born auror, I couldn’t imagine doing something else. Just ask my boss here.”

“You are. I wouldn’t know what to do without your Slytherin cunning.”

“Is that a compliment, boss?”

“You know, it is.”

Narcissa deftly steered the conversation away from auroring and children and asked after Ginny’s career. Harry was happy to oblige.

The tea had long grown cold, when Narcissa finally thanked them for the visit.

“It was such a pleasure to have you. I must insist, that you do not leave without presents.”

She fetched a bag and gave it to Harry.

Pansy could practically feel the magic come alive. The air grew thick with tension. It was as if the walls of the manor suddenly came closer.

“Presents for guests have a long tradition in the Malfoy family and I, Narcissa Malfoy, am happy to honour this tradition.” Her voice had a strained hue to it, as if she was fighting to get the words out.

“Harry Potter and Pansy Longbottom deserve to get generous presents.”

Harry took the bag.

“Thank you, Mrs Malfoy for your hospitality and generosity.”

The tension in the air faded away.

Pansy shuddered.

“Could you leave me these photos? My sister Andromeda comes to visit this afternoon and I am sure she would not be averse to have a look at your dashing husband.”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Just give them back the next time.”

Narcissa accompanied them to the door.

“It was so nice to have real guests,” she said. “Sometimes there are adventurous teenagers who try to trespass and steal things. I suspect they are Gryffindors who have some kind of stupid dare.”

“What?” Harry asked.

Narcissa laid a hand on his arm.

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Mr Potter. I never let them steal anything dangerous. And it is not as if this house will be empty in the near future.”

Narcissa’s joke must have brushed the curse, because Pansy could feel her breath sticking in her lungs for a heartbeat.

Narcissa winked and turned to Pansy and kissed her on the cheek and whispered a thank you in her ear.

They spent the way through the park in silence. It was only after they had left the manor, that they both opened their mouth.

“You first,” Harry said.

“Fuck pureblood traditions,” Pansy answered.

Harry gave a shaky laugh.

“We’re really getting better at this. At our first meeting, the Manor kicked me out after five minutes. I should have taken you sooner.”

“I don’t know, if I should be mad at you or if I should praise your soft heart, Harry. Taking Muggle photos was a good idea. Interesting that they would not trigger the curse. And Draco is not visible on magical photos. It is a side effect of the _scutum_. And, however did you get hold of these photos?”

Harry gave her a lopsided grin. “My wife is in the habit of exchanging important information with Hermione.”

“No way!” Pansy shouted out. She studied her boss full of thoughts.

“They ensure that you do not invite us at the same time? Neville and I wondered about that. Luna, of course says, that you must have made friends with some Knackles.”

“And that is usually all they do according to Ginny, just exchanging dates. She told me that Hermione sent the photos because Neville and you are in them.”

“Does Hermione know about the cut out curse? Or did she just think that Narcissa would like some photos? Do they know you see Narcissa?”

Harry shrugged. “Well, you didn’t know about the cut out. She might just have attempted to get to Narcissa”.

“You could have told me.”

“I am sorry. I am just on a short fuse. Ron arrived on our doorstep yesterday.”

Pansy groaned. “Oh no, don’t tell me he’s got another divorce on his hands.”

Harry’s grimace was all the answer Pansy needed. At least it was not summer. Draco would not need galleons before September. There was a chance that Ron Weasley would not be at the centre of attention by the time Draco and Hermione needed to go shopping for school stuff.

“We should apparate to the office and check the bag.”

“I can drop this off at Destruction,” Harry said. “Narcissa usually labels meticulously.”

Harry laid a hand on her arm.

“Pansy, I am so sorry about Laurence Fishguard. I didn’t know…. If I had arrived earlier…”

“Harry, this is not your fault, you bloody idiot. Just don’t pity me, or I’ll cry. Neville and I have a bunch of godchildren. We’re good.”

She wiped at her eyes angrily.

“It will never not hurt, to be quite honest, but we manage. Let’s concentrate on these bastards who target children, o.k.?”

Just before they disapparated, a thought struck Pansy.

“What was this about the Gryffindors stealing from the Manor? Do you think, she wanted me to tell Neville? Is this a way to get rid of the unimportant stuff or does she want it to stop?”

“It’s not easy reading into her vague wording, but I suspect the latter. Even I as a former Gryffindor can see, that trespassing into a Manor where the last heir has been cut out is not the best idea.”

“Colin hasn’t mentioned anything about such a dare, but he is such a rule abiding student, he probably wouldn’t know. Do you know anything about this? I mean you know so many Gryffindor children.”

Harry shook his head. “Teddy Lupin was a rascal, and I suspect my own James and Ron’s Richard are not better. And teenagers tend to not tell their parents the really important stuff.”

Pansy cursed. “Did I mention that I hate pureblood traditions?”

“Repeatedly,” Harry answered.


	3. At the lake (April 21, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a very strange encounter at the lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is obviously a flash back chapter to the canon era. Rather than write it all in italics, I decided to indicate this in the chapter title.   
> I wanted to come up with a plausible reason why Draco would doubt his "task" to kill Dumbledore and I decided that the pure hypocrisy must have dawned on him at some point.  
> I do hope this is not entirely out of character.  
> On the other hand, I've always thought that the order to kill Dumbledore and the fact that Draco probably knew that he was supposed to fail must have been a major turning point for him.  
> Canon events will be almost as in the books, but with a slight twist.

It was a fine day for April, and Hermione was not in a rush for once. Harry was with Professor Dumbledore, looking at the memory he finally had retrieved from Slughorn. He and Hermione had agreed to meet at the lake. Hermione had saved some muffins from tea, just in case Harry was hungry after his lesson.

When she arrived at the lake, she sat down on the blanket she had brought, tugged her feet under her legs and opened her book. For once she was not after information about horcruxes. She had brought a novel and was soon involved in the plot so much, that she forgot about her surroundings.

She had reached an exciting scene where the hero of the book had to escape a roaring fire, when her brain registered a sound, that did not fit, splashes, but only as if from small pebbles. She raised her head and saw a lone tall figure standing at the shore of the lake. There was no way she could mistake his light hair.

Draco Malfoy let flat stones skip across the water, and they made the light splashes she heard. He bent down and picked up a stone, let it fly, watched it and bent down again. He came closer.

Hermione watched him approach with caution and put her wand within her reach. It was better to be safe than sorry with the ferret.

But for once, Malfoy was not intent on throwing insults or hexes. He seemed to be deep in thought, distracted and his shadow darkened her book before he looked up and saw her.

“Granger”, he said, his voice for once devoid of the usual sneer.

Hermione only gave a slight nod, bracing herself for the insult that would certainly come.

“it doesn’t make sense, does it? It looks like magic, but anyone can do it”, Malfoy said.

Hermione was tempted to scoff, but something in Malfoy’s eyes made her stop. A lingering sadness or maybe resignation. Close up, she saw circles under his eyes, his cheeks were hollow, as if he had not eaten enough in weeks or maybe not slept enough.

“It’s just physics.”

“Physics?”

“Yes, physics, the torque is the key, I think.”

“Torque?”, Malfoy asked. He bit his lip, as if he restrained himself from making a cutting remark about the weird words, Hermione used.

“You spin the stone, don’t you? The spinning and the forward movement keep it up in the air, if I remember correctly. Actually, it works on any flat surface for a while, but best on water.”

“So, a spinning moment lets it look like magic. I could easily do it with magic of course.”

He picked up another stone and raised his wand and let the stone dance above the water. The growing circles of ripples on the lake formed a glittering pattern.

Malfoy picked up another stone and threw it. It bounced seven times, before it sank.

He looked at the place where the stone had sunk, as if he had lost something. He lowered his head and burrowed his fingers in his hair.

“It is all wrong, the whole world is wrong,” he suddenly burst out.

He sounded desperate, defeated even, and Hermione was confused.

“Don’t be overdramatic, Malfoy. Muggles work with physics all the time to do things, we can do with magic. There is nothing wrong about that.”

Malfoy looked at her, the raw pain in his face almost scary.

“That is not what I meant,” he whispered.

“What do you mean then?” Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She could not remember ever having talked so long with Malfoy without screaming insults. It was almost as if they had an actual conversation, even if it was a bit weird.

He chuckled, although he did not sound amused at all.

“It took me years to discover a logical fallacy, and now that I have finally understood that, I ….”. His grey eyes met hers again and the intensity made Hermione shiver with a feeling she could not pin down.

“What is this wisdom you found?”, she asked, seeking refuge in taunting him.

Abruptly, Malfoy let himself fall to sit at her side. He broke eye contact and gazed out on the lake.

“War. People fight wars, for… “ he stopped “let’s say some reason. They are convinced that they have to protect their own…”

Did Malfoy think that Voldemort wanted to protect wizards and witches? Hermione felt her mouth open in utter disbelief.

“But then suddenly it is not about protection any longer, or about a certain way of living or convictions. It becomes a question of winning.”

He moved his head suddenly again and sought an answer in her gaze. Hermione found herself unable not tear her eyes away.

“And then they have to sacrifice lives for winning. Sure, they talk about killing the enemy, but it’s not just enemy lives that are on the line. It’s the life of their own people as well. What do people do to ensure they win? Threaten their own, if they do not get involved?”

Hermione could have sworn she could see his eyes glittering.

“And in the end, it just means that more people are dead than would have been dead without the war.”

“I am not sure, I follow you, apart from the fact, that it should be obvious that dead people are bad news.” Hermione said cautiously.

“In the end it comes down to what a life is worth. One life against another, maybe one life against two, against ten? The life of a loved one against someone you hate? Your own life against the life of a stranger? Where is the line? And if there is a line, how would you decide?”

Hermione’s heart beat fast in anxiety. Where had Malfoy’s mind wandered? Was he talking about Voldemort? Was he a death eater as Harry claimed?

She looked deep into his eyes and saw uncertainty, worry, desperation. She struggled for words.

“A life is a life,” she finally said. “I do not think that you can weigh one against another.” She stuck her chin out defiantly. “The life of a muggle is as precious as a wizard’s or witch’s life. Or a house elf’s.”

Malfoy closed his eyes and inhaled. “Told you I discovered the logical fallacy.”

His breathing sounded laboured.

“Either pureblood lives are more important than …” he hesitated. “… the lives of Muggles and Muggleborns or they are not. If they are more important, why risk them at all, if not, why make a difference?”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. Had she just witnessed Malfoy of all people dismantling his prejudice? Had she heard the word Muggleborn?

Malfoy stood again. “As I said. It is all wrong, and I just wish…”

He did not finish the sentence. He picked up another stone and let it skip across the water.

He stepped away, but Hermione called him.

“Hey, Malfoy,”

He turned again.

“You know, starving yourself is not a solution, whatever troubles you.”

She took one of the muffins she had brought with her and threw it at him.

“Here, catch”.

He had the reflexes of a seeker after all. The muffin landed safely in his hand.

He nodded in thanks, gave her another intense gaze, before he abruptly turned and went away.

Hermione did not tell Harry about this encounter. She barely knew what to make of it.


	4. The hospital wing, May 12, 1997

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The discussion at the lake unsettled Hermione, and when Harry hit Draco with the sectumsempra curse she wants to make sure, that he won't die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another flash back chapter. For reasons, that will become clear, we don't see Draco's POV. If he seems rather forward here, there is a reason, apart from the fact, that he thinks that he will die.

Ever since she had talked with Malfoy by the lake, his defeated and desperate eyes had haunted her. Often in class or in the Great Hall she would think about their talk and almost every time she looked up and sought him with her eyes, his eyes were already on her. It unsettled her, but she had not told anyone about the strange encounter. She did not want Harry to continue with his obsession with Malfoy. She told him that it would not lead to anything good. When her predictions came true, she was horrified.

Harry had been white as a sheet. He had tailed Malfoy and had hit him with a terrible curse. It was little consolation that she had been right about that blasted book from the Half Blood Prince. Surely, someone who invented a spell, that would lead to the opponent just bleeding his life out, must have been a dark wizard.

Harry had been extremely vague on his encounter with Malfoy. Hermione suspected that he had a bad conscience because he repeatedly told her that he had no idea what _sectumsempra_ would do, and at the same time he was very vague about what Malfoy actually had done, when Harry had entered the bathroom.

She would get no rest, until she knew if Malfoy was better, or at least until she knew more. She decided that she would try and sneak into the hospital wing after curfew.

It was not difficult, really, to get hold of Harry’s invisibility cloak. Her friend was far too careless. She set a buzzing alarm with her wand and shortly after midnight, she got up and sneaked through the castle.

Once she had entered the hospital wing, she took off the cloak. Malfoy would not talk with thin air, if he would talk at all. He was the only student in the hospital wing.

He lay very still, but he was breathing at least, if in an uneasy and heavy rhythm. The moon gave a silvery shimmer to his hair and immersed the room in an almost ethereal light.

Carefully, Hermione approached his bed. His eyes opened almost immediately and the desperation in them made Hermione feel a strange tug at her heart.

“Want to finish Potter’s job?”, he asked her in a low voice.

She shook her head. “If you thought that, you would have screamed.”

“Maybe, I think it would be a good idea.”

Hermione decided to not let herself be distracted. “I want to know what happened.”

“Potter caught me in a bad moment, we hexed each other, he was faster than me. There is nothing more to know. It should not surprise you. Our fighting was bound to escalate at some time.”

“Harry did not know that the spell was so dangerous.”

Malfoy scoffed and then shrugged. “Could be. And I was not picky either. He was just faster. Afraid, I’ll accuse Potter? Don’t be. I won’t tell he used a dark curse on me. I don’t need anyone looking over my shoulder.”

“That is not…,” she protested and then stopped herself feeling caught out. She blushed. “That is not the only reason I am here.”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. He seemed amused. “Is this your Gryffindor honesty talking?”

“Stuff it, Malfoy. I really want to know how you are.”

“Why do you care?” His eyes bored into her. “You hate me.”

“That I dislike you, does not mean, that I want you hurt. You could have died.”

She studied his face. His eyes were difficult to read in the moonlight.

“You know, after all you said at the lake….”, she inhaled deeply. “For what it’s worth. Harry should not have cursed you. It doesn’t matter that you hate each other. Nobody should use this curse. And I am sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, for something you didn’t even do?”

“Maybe I am sorry, because … Harry got that spell from a strange potions book with notes. And it said ‘against enemies’. I’ve told him so many times, he should not trust that book. I am sorry for not stealing that blasted book from him or telling on him to be honest.”

“Maybe I am Potter’s enemy.”

“And maybe you are not.”, she contradicted.

She edged closer to his bed. “I can’t forget what you told me at the lake. What made you question the whole purebloods are better idea?”

She was startled, when he suddenly sat up.

His voice was soft. “Maybe I am dreaming, and this isn’t even happening. Do you really want to know?”

She felt that strange tug again.

“You are not dreaming.”

He chuckled. “Let’s pretend, I am dreaming, Granger. Let’s pretend this is a dream, and we met by chance. It must be a dream, because otherwise I couldn’t tell you anything. I said too much already.”

“Come closer”, he said. “Even in dreams there are unfriendly ears.”

Despite herself Hermione sat down on the edge of his bed. Malfoy was right. It somehow felt like a dream. Maybe she was lying in her own bed and the silvery moon spun tales in her mind.

“Do you love your mother, Granger?”

Hermione closed her eyes and pictured her parents. Her heart tightened when she thought about how she could keep them safe, her idea to obliviate them for their own safety. She had not told anybody about it yet and the thought felt like a stone laying heavily on her heart, causing it to make hard thumps against her breastbone, when she allowed herself to feel the enormity of her plan.

“My parents don’t understand my world, but they have always supported me. Yes, I love them. And I fear for them. They are in danger simply because of who I am.” It felt good to say this aloud, even to Malfoy, of all people.

“He has my mother.”

“Who? Volde….”

Hastily, Malfoy put a finger to her lips. His finger was strangely cool on her warm lips and made her shiver.

“She is the leverage he's using to keep me in line. He’s all about how we purebloods should rule the world, but then he casually threatens to kill her.”

All of a sudden, Hermione was overwhelmed by the rush of pity that engulfed her. It was her nightmare, her parents in the hands of someone like Voldemort. “But, why?”

“Because he is a tyrant, and lives mean nothing to him, not just the life of a muggle or a muggleborn, anybody’s life but his own.”

He pressed his fingers at his temples. “For years, I was taught that he would see to it that wizards and witches get their rightful place in the world, that we are better. But he does not care, not really.”

Hermione could not hold her tongue. “Could have told you that.”

He chuckled again. “And what are the chances that I would have believed you? Granger know-it-all?”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Don’t tell me off. I feel incredibly stupid already.”

Hermione had to smile. “Well, you worked it out. I could give you house points.”

“House points”. He waved dismissively.

Hermione’s smile cracked. “What happened to the Draco Malfoy who wanted to win the house cup? The Slytherin seeker who wanted nothing more than to best Gryffindor?”, she asked. Suddenly it made sense, Malfoy’s withdrawal from Quidditch, his lapse in classes. She dreaded his answer.

“I desperately wish this was all I would care about. But that Draco Malfoy is dead.” His voice sounded so strange and detached as if it cost him much to speak them out loud. “I cannot care about these things. I wish I could. But I cannot turn the time, and I cannot be oblivious again.”

Hermione felt that strange tug again. “What does he push you to do? For your mother’s life?”

On instinct, she laid her hand on his arm, his left arm, that lay on the cover of his bed. He gave a start and flinched.

“Don’t”, he said. “Don’t”. Hermione shrank back.

With a sudden movement he pushed his sleeve up and pointed his wand at his arm. For a moment, her vision quavered and then she saw it. The dark mark. It didn’t surprise her, not after everything he had said, even though she had defended Malfoy against Harry’s suspicions.

“Why would you show me that?”

“You need to understand. If you want to survive, you need to know what he does. How he rules with fear and coercion, how he sets traps for each and every one,” he whispered. “How he exploits even our best traits. How he twists it all. Pride, confidence, love. He uses them and then he turns them to bitterness and dust.”

He shook his head. “To think that I was stupid enough to be proud to get this ….”

Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. “You are not even an adult yet. He should not be using children.”

“He should not, but he does, and so does your side. Don’t tell me Dumbledore does not use Harry.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but then she nodded.

“What does he want you to do?”, she asked.

“It is not important, not really.” Malfoy’s voice sounded rough. “I came to the conclusion, that he expects me to fail. And he already put someone else in place, just in case….”

His eyes had a strange shimmer to them. Tears, maybe?

“All I can do, is to make enough of an effort, so that my mother is not killed. I tried to take detours.” He grimaced. “They didn’t work and I almost k…”, he stopped himself.

Hermione wanted to cry, but the tears stuck in her throat. “You could defect.”

He shook. “I told you, I love my mother. She’d be dead the hour he learns about my defection.”

The sentence “ _he might kill her anyway_ ” lay on the tip of her tongue, but she bit her tongue.

“Look, I do not think I will survive this, but my mother might.”

“I could just tell on you,” Hermione said.

“Oh, but this is a dream, is it not?”

“I didn’t know it was.”

“You talk to me, it must be a dream.” His smile was surprisingly soft.

When his right hand edged closer to her hand, and he took it in a sudden move, Hermione wondered if he was right. Malfoy taking her hand must be a dream. An event in some alternative reality. Her skin tingled.

He held the knuckles of her fingers in a feathery touch. Hermione could have withdrawn her hand any time, but she stayed still and was painfully aware of her erratically beating heart.

“It is so strange,” he whispered. “Do you know what I realized?”

Hermione looked into his eyes and gave a tiny shake of her head.

“I thought I hated you, but I never did. I hated that I could not make sense of you, that you defied what I had learned to be the way of the world. I hated you for scratching at my set beliefs by your very existence. If I would have been able to see that, I might have realised many things sooner.”

His eyes were a fathomless depth, that pulled her in. His voice had become a ghost of a whisper.

“I am so sorry, that you had to suffer for my stupidity and conceit. I wish I could unsay every insult I ever threw at you.”

Hermione felt like falling. Her head swam. She tried to anchor herself, to get a hold on reality in this strange dreamlike landscape she was in. She gripped his hands hard.

“Malfoy, you do realise that it is very strange to apologize for years of insulting me, just after you showed me that mark.”

“I fear I won’t get a chance again to say that I’m sorry, but I can stop apologizing, if you want me to.”

“You’ve completely caught me off guard,” Hermione admitted. “I probably should answer something…”

He smiled. “You could always tell me, that I was wrong, and you were right.” His voice took on a different hue, as if he was imitating her, but Hermione heard no mockery in his voice, just amusement. “’Malfoy, you could have tried it with simple logic.’”

She wondered if he knew her better than she would have suspected. She could not help herself. She had to laugh.

She had long known that the world was not black and white, but suddenly her heart ached with the pain of it all. Draco Malfoy was a death eater, a death eater! Harry had almost killed him by accident, and some might even say, that would have been better. But he did not believe in Voldemort and he had apologised. And then she began to cry because she just couldn’t take it any longer.

Somehow, he had taken her in his arms and in this dreamlike world, illuminated by the moon, there was nothing strange about it. She cried into his pyjama until she could feel the wetness of her tears that had soaked the fabric on her cheeks.

“Hermione?”. His lips were so very close to her ear.

Hermione raised her head. Her eyes felt swollen from crying. In Draco’s eyes she still saw desperation, but also a bittersweet sadness.

“I wish this dream would never end,” he said. He raised his hands and framed her face, and lowered his face to hers. They closed their eyes at the same time, and Hermione felt his lips on hers, neither desperate nor passionate, but warm and soft and tender, melting into her. He kissed her until she was not sure she knew where her lips ended and his started. She felt strangely detached from the world. If she had opened her eyes and had found them floating in nothing she would not have been surprised.

But when Draco finally loosened his hold on her face, the hospital room was the same it had been. Her lips burned and her heart fluttered.

“I know that Dumbledore is planning something. I guess you are involved. I just want to say, that I wish you all the luck in the world.”

Hermione did never remember how she had returned to the Gryffindor tower nor if she had slept at all. She must have taken the invisibility cloak, because Harry did not complain about it missing, but her memories were a hazy as if she had indeed dreamt, but when she closed her eyes, she could feel his lips on her, and found herself fervently wishing that he was wrong. That he would survive.


	5. In need of a wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is over and school will soon start again. Colin Granger-Malfoy dreads this for different reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is in the present again. Meet the Granger-Malfoy family at the end of the holidays.

"Colin has to get a new wand before school starts again,” Rina said at breakfast. Colin had almost forgotten that she knew about his wand.

Colin could have strangled his sister. She was far too observant. He didn’t really want to be reminded of school, not now, when they were all together and happy. He had put it off for too long, he knew, but he would have rather told his parents on his own terms.

He shot her an angry look, but Rina held his gaze. And mum and dad looked at him as well.

Now, in early January, the Christmas tree did not look that fresh anymore despite the charms mum had placed on the tree. But it still smelled like Christmas, home and family. In a few days, when school started again, they would dispose of the tree. School meant arithmancy, ancient runes and potions, but it also meant his classmates.

Colin didn’t usually mind that his only friends at Hogwarts were an old house elf and a very dreamy girl from Ravenclaw, but his broken wand reminded him, that he did not always succeed in evading notice.

“I don’t need a new wand, it is not really broken.”

His mum was not prone to let that pass and neither was his sister. “I certainly would like to know, how Colin managed to break it in the first place”, she said.

Colin flushed. “I told you, Rina, I forgot I had it in the back pocket of my jeans and slipped on the ice. It was slippery as the skin of the giant squid.”

Rina just raised an eyebrow and stared at him challengingly. Colin was well aware that she did not believe it.

“Nobody intended for my wand to break,” he shouted.

His father who was busy cutting small pieces of toast for Robert, the baby, gave him a quick glance. His eyes flickered ever so shortly.

“Rina, there is no need to pester Colin about a mishap,” mum said. “I still want to see that wand, though.”

Colin cringed inwardly. Now, he was sure both his parents knew, that slippery ice was not to blame.

Under their scrutinizing eyes he produced his wand.

“It happened on the last Hogsmeade weekend, just before the Christmas break.”

“Not really broken…” his dad said. He took the wand with two fingers and brought the lower half into a swing. The grip of the wand slowly circled just above Colin’s nose

“Colin, you should have told us.”

Colin sunk his head. “Wands are expensive,” he muttered. “And with Christmas and all the new books, I wanted to read, I forgot about it. I really forgot. I was so caught up in ‘The Lord of the Rings’.”

‘The Lord of the Rings’ had been a present by his parents, and Colin had read it in one go, ears burning with excitement.

Mum sighed. “We need to go to Ollivander’s.”

“I could go”, Rina said. “You give me money, and I'll do it. I am an adult now. If I can get hold of the assistant, she might even be persuaded not to charge the double price.”

“Rina!”, mum said.

“What? You know, they have charged each of us doubly for wands.”

“Hardly, they demand about a third more than from others in my estimation,” dad said.

He sighed deeply. “Ollivander is not the problem anyway. He’ll sell us a wand. The problem is that I have to go to Gringott’s first to change pounds into galleons. Unless you latest client happened to pay on time, Granger?”

“I gave Terry an extension,” mum said apologetically. “I could hardly know that we would need galleons in January.”

Dad grimaced. “Time for my favourite pastime then.”

Colin fought tears. They all knew, save little Robert perhaps, that dad hated the trip to Gringott’s. But usually he only had to go once a year just before they had to buy all the school stuff. When Lizzie had entered Hogwarts last summer, it had been a real stretch, Colin knew, although mum and dad had pretended to be all sanguine about three children in Hogwarts.

“Love, you know, Blaise or Pansy would…”

“And they’d probably be hexed for trying. There are just not that many people who need to exchange pounds to galleons. We’ve talked about this a dozen times. You know I must do it or it will be even worse.”

He stood up. “Might as well get it over with.”

As always when he came to a decision, he was quick about it.

“I’ll text you, when I’m done. I’ll take the tube.” He went around the baby’s stool and stood close to her.

Colin could see the concern in his mother’s eyes, but when his father bent down to her to give her a kiss, she masked it quickly and smiled.

“I’ll ask Neville for help. I’m sure he’ll take Colin to Flourish and Blotts, and you can pick him up there, once you’ve got ahold of enough galleons.”

“Can I come, too? Neville is my uncle as well,” his little sister Lizzie chimed in.

“Me, too”, Meg cried. “Want to see Neville”.

“We’ll see what Neville has to say about that.”

Uncle Neville would gladly take them all, Colin knew. He would probably get them hot chocolate and spoil them. If Colin was lucky, Neville would buy him a book. His mood lifted, even though he suspected that both his parents would revisit the question of his broken wand.

Mum waved her wand, and a silver otter appeared.

“Ask Neville, if he is free today to take Colin, Lizzie and Meg on a stroll. I have to watch Robert and Draco has business.”

The otter ran, leaving small silver sparks in the air.

“Could you go with Colin, if Neville is not free?” mum asked Rina.

Rina scowled. “I want to go with Dad.”

“Rina, this is definitely not a good idea,” dad said.

“I am an adult now. You told me, that you won’t interfere with my decisions.”

“We didn’t promise not to give you advice, though, Rina,” dad said. He put a coat over his arm and then picked up his phone from the table at the door.

“My difficulties in Gringott’s are my problem, and mine alone. This shouldn’t be perpetuated to the next generation.”

He ruffled the baby’s hair.

He pointed at the coat.

“Granger, could you give the sleeves the look of being just this side of threadbare?”

Mum raised her eyebrows, questioningly, but waved her wand.

“Thanks, Granger. You know I’ll get the money easier, when I give the impression of being already thoroughly humiliated and wounded in my pride.”

Dad kissed her again.

Mum shook her head.

“Give them a nice act, Malfoy.”

"Last time I was finished by noon."

A silver mongoose appeared just when dad had opened the door to leave.

“I can pick up the children. Lower the wards at about eleven.”


	6. The headmaster's office (June 15, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione seeks advice, still not sure if she should talk about what Draco has told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is another flash back chapter. I thought that Hermione would have tried to tell someone about Draco, even if she feels that his information was confidential.  
> I also wanted to explore Dumbledore's scheming character a bit. I do think he is a very grey character, even though his end aim is laudable.  
> If you like my fic or have any constructive criticism, feel free to comment! I would love it!

Malfoy had been released from the hospital wing, although he looked as if he should have stayed there another week at least. His presence unnerved Hermione. She still was not entirely sure, if her moonlit visit in the hospital wing had been a dream. How real could it be? Malfoy showing her his mark, apologising and that kiss. She was just grateful that Harry was very preoccupied with Ginny, his girlfriend of a few weeks or he might have begun tailing Malfoy again.

The memory of his kiss was tucked away in a corner of her mind, a treasure that gave off a shine in the night, when light fell on it. When she thought about it, her lips burned, she felt that strange tug in her heart. Sometimes she wondered if he had put a spell on her; that she even let him kiss her or if it had been some strange place fallen out of time, where things were just different than they were supposed to be. A place where Draco Malfoy apologized to her as if he had meant it. But also, a place where he was trapped on the path his father and his upbringing had set him on.

During potions she had felt her shoulder blades itching with the sensation that he was watching her, but she resisted the temptation to turn. Slughorn was hovering over Harry’s potion and grimacing, muttering something about young love confusing an otherwise brilliant mind. Hermione felt a bit smug about that. Ever since he had lost the Prince’s book, Harry’s gift for potions had vanished. It was only when Professor Slughorn was checking her own progress, that she dared to look up from her cauldron. Her eyes met with Malfoy’s. It was as if his gaze was waiting for her, definitely not unfriendly, but of smouldering intensity.

She was so flustered, that she forgot one of her books after the lesson. When she ran back, she saw that Malfoy had lingered after the other students. His hand was on one of the pillars and he seemed to try to catch his breath. She hesitated and came to a halt, a few strides in front of him. His head snapped up.

Their eyes locked again, and Hermione could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks, the memory of their kiss vivid in her mind. Despite her doubts about that night, she reached out with her hand and touched his arm and they stood like that for a long moment. His breathing sounded laboured in her ears.

She had only a moment’s warning of a very light step, that came up behind her. He broke away from the pillar, straightened up and broke eye contact with her. His mien had changed completely, his upper lips twisted as if in disgust.

“Watch where you’re going, mudblood,” he said, just as Goyle rounded the corner.

The insult did not reach her heart. It stuck somewhere in the air between them, as if a shield prevented it from hurting her. And yet, Hermione did not even hesitate. She copied his gesture of disgust. “What did I just witness? A talking ferret?” She tsked. “Strange, that a ferret would imitate prejudiced purebloods of all people.”

“Need help with hexing Granger, Draco?” Goyle asked.

Malfoy waved his hand dismissively. “She’s not worth the trouble.”

Hermione let Goyle pass her, a scowl plastered on her face, her wand on the ready. Malfoy took Goyle’s arm and pulled him along, as if in great haste. When they had reached the next stairs, he turned his head, just a tiny fraction. Hermione tapped her lips with her index finger and winked. A sudden flush darkened his pale face. She had not dreamed after all. He had not meant the insult, but he did not trust Goyle. Hermione’s heart thumped hard in her chest. The realisation that he wanted to protect her felt like an ice block near her heart and like a fire that warmed her.

She fetched her book and decided to skip her next lesson. She needed to talk with someone, but Harry or Ron were out of the question.

***

She was lucky. The password to the headmaster’s office was not that difficult to guess and Professor Dumbledore was in his office. He did not look well, but a smile brightened his face, when she entered.

“Miss Granger, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Professor Dumbledore.” She would have to be careful with her wording. “My question is very hypothetical.”

The headmaster raised his eyebrows.

“I was wondering. We all assume that Voldemort’s followers join his cause either willingly or because of the _imperius_ curse.”

She took a deep breath. “And wizards and witches who were under the _imperius_ got a pardon the last time Voldemort was at large, didn’t they?”

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, someone under the _imperius_ was not considered to be responsible for his or her actions.”

“What about people who were coerced or blackmailed. Let’s say Voldemort had a leverage over them?”

“That would depend on the circumstances. You know, Miss Granger, in a way, even under pressure, we might have a choice.”

“It might be only poor choices though. Let’s say, someone is a death eater.” She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. “But he gets misgivings? Or, even though he should be loyal, Voldemort still puts pressure on him?”

Dumbledore did not answer, but nodded shortly.

“Something like that must have happened with Professor Snape. I mean, he did not start as a double agent, did he?”

“Indeed, he did not.”

She licked her lips. “What made him defect?”

“This is between Professor Snape and me, Miss Granger.”

“I don’t want any details, just a general idea,” Hermione snapped. She took a deep breath.

“Professor Snape ran out of options, to be quite honest. He wanted someone to live and was intelligent enough to realise, that Voldemort’s promise in that regard meant nothing.”

“So, he decided to trust your promise. Why?”

“I have been careful to uphold my reputation of being a man of my word. And I just promised him to try.”

“You did not succeed,” Hermione stated.

Dumbledore shook his head.

“So, you could not in all honesty promise our hypothetical death eater that you would save the person he wants to live.”

He shook his head again, his eyes glittering.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, and wiped a single tear from her cheek. Her mood had plummeted.

“So, the difference between Voldemort and you is, that he might spare someone, if he is not in the mood to kill, while you do your best.”

“As sad as it is, this is quite an accurate observation, Miss Granger.”

Hermione hung her head.

“This very hypothetical death eater you talk about, Miss Granger. Did he confide in you?”

Hermione took a sharp breath. She tried to shake her head, but it became a mixture between a nod and headshake.

“I thought we had established, that I am aware of some of Voldemort’s plans. You do not need to fret that you betray his confidence.”

“I don’t know what he is supposed to do, do you?” she whispered.

“I have a general idea.” His eyes bore into hers.

“He expects to fail, I think”, she licked her lips. “He expects to fail and die.”

“But he’ll still try, so that Voldemort will not let someone else pay.”

Hermione nodded.

Her voice sounded shaken in her own ears. “He said that Voldemort takes good things like love, pride and confidence, and turns them to bitterness and dust.”

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. “Your hypothetical death eater seems to have gained some insight.”

Hermione could not help herself. She cried. “If only he understood that earlier. Before he…” She felt that strange tug at her heart again. Was it pity? Or something akin to pity? Her lips began burning again in memory of their kiss.

“There, there Miss Granger. Understanding might not be too late. He hasn’t actually done anything yet.”

“I shouldn’t even worry about him. I should be worried about my NEWTs. I should be worried about who I would like to kiss!”, she cried. She felt herself blushing furiously.

“He said, that there is another in place if he fails. Is that Professor Snape?”

Dumbledore nodded.

Hermione felt herself sag with relief. “So, I don’t need to try to get him to tell me the plan.”

“Rest assured, Miss Granger. I am well prepared to thwart Voldemort’s plans, in a way that he will not foresee.” He patted her hand, if a bit awkwardly. “You know, your death eater is quite right. Tom Riddle destroys love, loyalty, trust, confidence, because he wants to destroy what he does not understand to prove to himself, that it is meaningless. That everything is meaningless but his own raw power.”

Hermione took a tissue and blew her nose. A sudden thought came to her and chilled her.

“Professor Dumbledore?”, she asked.

“Yes, Miss Granger.”

“What do you do with love and friendship and loyalty?”

Suddenly he looked grey and old, his mouth slacked downwards.

“I sincerely hope, I do not destroy them, Miss Granger. I do, however, take advantage of them and use them, count on them, even. I am sure you know that, or you would not have asked this question.”

Hermione thought about what Malfoy had said, about what wanting to win a war meant.

“I see. And you **can** count on me. I will help Harry.”

“I don’t know, if it is any consolation, Miss Granger, but believe me, that I really would want for you to not have other problems but your NEWTs and a possible crush.”

Hermione stood up. “Do you know, what is a consolation, Professor? If Harry wins, if we manage to destroy the Horcruxes, other muggleborns like me will have the chance to split their silly and frivolous heads on the question of who they should date. Thank you for your time, I feel better now.”

If she had known, that she would never see him again, she might have stayed until he stopped laughing.


	7. Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's and Hermione's children talk about their houses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to describe the established Dramione relationship from the PoV of others including their children's before we see into their heads as they are now, because I think it is interesting to see how they are seen by others before we see their own PoV. I also want to hint at things that will be important and to give some information on why the wizarding world has a problem with them - which will be plot relevant.  
> I hope you like the children. They have been in my head for so long, that they feel like old friends to me.  
> Feel free to comment. I like to interact with my readers.

Rina managed to corner Colin before uncle Neville arrived. She squared her arms and gave him her best head girl stare.

“ _Nobody intended for my wand to break_ … sure, Colin.”

“It’s the truth.”

Rina scoffed. “Lying with the truth were you, eh?”

A tell-tale flush crept into Colin’s face.

“You know what dad always tells us. If you lie with the truth you have to be exceptionally cautious about your wording.”

Colin pressed his lips together.

“ _Nobody intended_ clearly points towards the fact that more than one person was involved.”

Colin stubbornly remained silent.

Rina sighed. “You might as well admit it. These no good Potter - Weasley disaster twins were involved.“ James Potter and Richard Weasley were not really twins, but inseparable, and everybody called them the twins.

“We had a fight, a real fight with fists and all. They did not mean for my wand to break.”

“Two against one. They were lucky, I did not see anything, or I would have deduced house points so fast….”

“Rina,” Colin pleaded. “That would have made it worse! If you want to help me at all, just never deduce house points from Gryffindor for my sake.”

“I know that,” Rina sighed. “Still, if they were responsible for breaking your wand, they should contribute to a new wand.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Listen to you, Rina. Ronald Weasley’s son should pay for the wand of Colin Granger-Malfoy. And to top it off probably Hermione Granger should be the one to sue him for the money.”

They both had to laugh.

“What was the fight about, anyway?” Rina asked.

Colin shrugged. “The usual… My father is a death eater, who has been feeding love potion to mum for years, this whole _scutum_ business is just a scam to hide his nefarious actions, I am a swot and afraid of flying, and nobody knows why I am in Gryffindor.”

“The part about dad is mostly just a repetition of the insane gossip the Daily Prophet likes to print instead of informing the public on the really important stuff.”

“You sound like mum, when she goes on a rant.”

“You know, in my house they pester me about mum. You know, rights of magical creatures extremist… head on set upon disrupting any order… destroyer of pureblood traditions… And of course, she only married dad because she just happened to know that would start a house elf rebellion.”

Colin smiled at her. “That’s just our luck. Notorious parents instead of famous ones.”

Their little sister Lizzie had entered the corridor and had heard them.

“Mum and Dad are famous in Hufflepuff,” she said.

“How?”

“Star-crossed lovers and all that. His love for mum converted dad, so that he became a double agent and risked his life against Voldemort and mum defended him in court because she is the embodiment of fairness. And everybody agrees that they both should have been in Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff is all about tolerance, acceptance and reconciliation.”

Lizzie scrunched her nose. “And every time there is a new couple, they rate them on a scale of zero to Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger.”

“You’ve made that up!”, Rina exclaimed.

Lizzie bent her head to the side. “Anyway, the way Hufflepuffs talk about mum and dad is gross. When it is too much, I always tell them that mum and dad still call each other by their last names.”

“I wonder what the Ravenclaws say?” Colin asked

Lizzie shrugged. “Meg will tell us, once she goes to Hogwarts.”

“If she is sorted into Ravenclaw.”

Rina shook her head remembering when the hat had sat on her head. The thing had actually chuckled in her ear and asked about her siblings. Then he had said “ _I’ll start with Slytherin then.”_

Lizzie chuckled. “Maybe he put me into Hufflepuff because he was all confused. Dad would like to believe that.”

They laughed, when they remembered the commotion at Lizzie’s sorting. One of the students, a Fawley of pureblood descent, had almost been forgotten, and the students had joked that the hat had been flustered for the first time in his long life.

“The hat told me at my sorting, that it would be Hufflepuff for you, Lizzie.” Colin said.

“Stupid old hat and his stupid decisions. The wizarding society and their stupid traditions,” Rina sighed. “I think you got it worst, Colin, but there is nothing to be done, is there?”

Colin shook his head. “Look, I might be the son of a death eater and a swot, but I won’t be a sneak, if I can avoid it.”

He put a hand on Rina’s arm. “I know you want to help, but you can’t. And it is far better than last year. Uncle Neville as new head of house makes such a difference!”

He grinned. “He gave us a prep speech about earning the house cup. And he showed us a chart of earned house points. As it happened, the chart showed that Gryffindor earned quite a lot of house points due to correct answers in class. Our prefect David Finnigan is so keen on getting the cup this year, that he has encouraged me to learn more.”

“Uncle Neville is the best.”

Colin nodded. “Will you come with us?”

Rina shook her head. “No, I’ll go with dad.”

“You know that mum has looked into this. They are obliged to do the exchange by law, but that’s about it. As long as they exchange within the day.”

“Still, dad might feel better, if he has support. The very least I can do is to talk to him, so he doesn’t die of boredom while they make him wait. And last time dad made it out of Gringotts by noon. It’s twenty years ago after all.”


	8. The astronomy tower (June 30, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The astronomy tower from Draco's PoV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wish JKR had made more of this major turning point for Draco. This is an attempt....

It was a beautiful day. The sun was glittering on the water of the lake and most of the students were outside, relishing the warmth and the nearing end of the school year. Most of the students outside meant only a handful in the building. It was not a bad day to die.

Draco knew he was stalling. His eyes were burning from the effort to make out individual students from the window he had chosen to get a last look. His heart was beating erratically, when he saw a girl that might be Granger. A small slither of hope, that must be enough.

He checked the coin, that allowed him to exchange messages with Rosmerta. Dumbledore had returned. A few quick strides took him to the room of requirement. Three times he ran back and forth, the ritual to open the room familiar by now. He entered, and went directly to the vanishing cabinet. He almost sung the incantation that would open the passage.

When he heard the voice of his aunt, he knew that his spell had succeeded. He could have cried. When she came out of the cabinet, he just gave her a curt nod, because he did not trust his voice. He turned on his heels and raced out of the room and up the astronomy tower. It felt strange to hasten towards his own death, but the sooner he confronted Dumbledore, the sooner the death eaters would be gone again.

The minutes after he had cast _morsmordre_ were agony. He tried not to think about what might happen in the castle. He saw a speck in the sky and knew that Dumbledore came, just as he had expected.

He did not expect his _expelliarmus_ to succeed when Dumbledore entered the tower.

He stood wand in hand before the man he was supposed to kill. A drop of cold sweat slowly made its way between his shoulder blades and his skin was covered in goosebumps. He was not surprised to see his hand shaking.

Why didn’t Dumbledore do anything? The man was talking, talking! Talking about how he could help Draco, save his mother and him. He told Draco that he was not a murderer, when Draco was already painfully aware, that he did not want to cross that line. He never wanted to relive the night after he had thought that Katie Bell would not make it. And he hated Katie.

Draco tried to taunt him into attacking him. He sneered and bragged, and expected to be overrun by a wandless bout of magic any time. Surely even a wandless Dumbledore could take him out? The old man looked exhausted and drawn, but he should still be a match for Draco, a teenager who was overtired and hadn’t eaten enough in months.

The drop of cold sweat on his back had become a river. His hands had started to shake even more violently. He lowered his wand. He wondered, if this was some kind of test, and if he had failed or succeeded.

The other death eaters had made it to the top of the tower, and Draco knew that it was over. Now, they knew. His aunt knew. That he had failed. That he was not trustworthy. That it was not a question of Dumbledore being more powerful but of him being unable to kill. He would be branded as a coward. Maybe letting them into the castle would be enough to save his mother. Why had that old man not defended himself? He was supposed to defeat Draco.

Even now, he was talking, stalling perhaps? Severus Snape had reached the last stair to the tower, his presence commanding the room. Draco knew that the dark man would not hesitate.

Dumbledore seemed relieved to see him.

“Severus, please,” he said, as he had not pleaded with any of the others.

The green light made Draco flinch and he watched in horror as Dumbledore fell. He would have stood there, rooted to the ground, if Snape had not pulled him with them when they fled.

“The task is done,” Snape had said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Draco would only remember bits and pieces from their flight later. He was hit by a few insignificant curses but managed to run on. His brain was fuzzy and confused from the mere fact that he was alive. Somehow Potter had come out of nowhere and pursued them, screaming in rage at Snape. How had he even seen that Snape had been the one to kill Dumbledore?

Potter tried to _crucio_ aunt Bellatrix, and she laughed her strangely unhinged, but chiming laughter.

“You have to mean it, Potter.”

The stupid Gryffindor hero would have died then, if Snape had not insisted that he was for the Dark Lord.

When they disapparated, Draco crumbled on the grass. His thoughts were running wild and in circles. He felt a hand that helped him up.

“Get a grip, Draco,” Snape told him. “The Dark Lord awaits.”

Draco was trembling with fear, when he was brought before the Dark Lord. He was lucky that the Dark Lord was gleeful about Dumblodore’s death. He only invaded his mind shortly, and Draco managed to push his fear to the front of his mind, his fear of the powerful wizard, his fear of failure, his fear for his mother. It was real enough and everybody could see him shivering in anxiety. The death eaters’ laughter over his cowardice washed over him, while his mother stood at his back, her hand an iron grip on his arm. Draco did not know if she wanted to keep him from crumbling or if she wanted to stop her own body from shaking.

He had to pay for his failure of course, but only with a couple of _crucios_ , and at the end of the day his mother was still alive, but so was he. He wondered what twist of fate had thwarted his plan, and he dreaded his next task. He had no doubt that the Dark Lord would come up with something.


	9. Gringotts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rina does not take her father's advice and accompanies him to Gringotts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole galleons- pound exchange rate is a mess.... If galleons are gold, and the Weasleys just have one galleon in their vault at the beginning of the book, there is no way that the exchange rate is 1 galleon to 5 pounds. We should also remember that Harry paid 7 galleons for his wand.  
> So for the sake of this fic, I made the assumption that there is an official exchange rate that is in favour of the Muggles who have to pay for school equipment for their magical children, but that otherwise galleons are about 1 to 80. There could be a magical protection on galleons that prevents Muggle parents of Muggleborns from just exchanging them and melting them down, but obviously that cannot be the exchange rate for people who are wizards and witches.  
> So, for the sake of this fic, I make the guess that a wand would be about 7 galleons, but that would surely be about 560 pounds.  
> That being said, I don't think that there is a really logical way to go about the whole galleons/pounds thing.  
> Anyway that is not yet important for this chapter....

When Rina reached Gringotts she barely got there in time to see her father climbing the steps in a determined stride. She ran to catch up with him.

He was not pleased. His grey eyes certainly had a frosty look to them.

“I see, you do not listen to advice.”

He had stopped in front of the great entrance.

“You might make yourself useful, if you insist on coming along. Give me your bag.”

She handed him her bag, and he opened his coat and took out a thick bundle of pounds and put it in her bag. “I sure hope that they won’t abolish cash before all of you have finished school. Trying to get Gringotts to accept credit cards will be a nightmare.”

He handed her the bag. “Now, place a _scutum_ on it.”

Rina tapped her wand on the bag, swishing it just at the right angle. “ _Scutum_ ”, she said, picturing the shield encasing the whole bag and then tying the spell off, with another swish. The moment, the _scutum_ hit, her bag became heavier and almost slipped out of her hand, when the anti-gravity charm was cancelled.

“Why?”

Dad raised one of his eyebrows.

“Oh, when I started school. I remember. Somebody stole your pounds by magic?”

He nodded. “Yes, ‘somebody’. I usually place the money close enough to my body.”

They entered the bank together.

Rina had never been to Gringotts and she was very impressed by the sheer size of it. She knew that there was a Malfoy vault, but it could as well be on the moon for all the good it could do them.

Her dad went to the end of the queue that was at the left, where there was a sign that read “Exchange and others”. The queue was not that long, but Rina saw with worry, that one of the goblins had spotted her father. He stood up and went to the back and vanished.

Rina saw that there were some people who were welcomed at the door and led to the back. She assumed that they were important people with vaults.

She went to her dad.

“Dad,” she whispered. “Is the entrance to the vaults in the back?”

“You would have to ask your mother about that, but I suggest you’d better not mention her own excursion to Gringotts, while we are here.” He smirked.

“Have you never been to the vaults?”

“If I had known that I would never get a chance to see them, I might have begged my father to take me, when I was a child.”

He grinned at her. “When you think about the irony, it is really funny.”

“So, the important people with money are treated differently.”

Her dad shot her an astonished look. “Of course, Rina, this is a bank.”

She rolled her eyes. “How could I forget.”

“You know, what really is funny?”

“No?”

“When I go to Barclay’s, I am actually treated quite nicely. Not exceptionally, but Fortescue and Miller make enough money for them to be accommodating.”

He winked at Rina. “Of course, they might just suspect me of laundering money with all the cash I withdraw from my account. And they treat me nicely because they think I am a criminal with connections.”

Rina chuckled despite herself. “If you think this is funny.”

“You know, this will probably take quite some time.”

“Don’t start again, I’ll stay.”

“O.k. but don’t complain to me about being bored.”

***

Rina would never have admitted it, but when it was well into the afternoon, and they had moved about what felt like four inches at the most, she was bored. Several people had been picked out of the queue behind them and had been guided to the counter. Dad would narrow his eyes each time that happened, but apart from that, his face was a mask.

He had taken out his phone. He put the phone in his palm, so that the back was covered and typed with the other hand. Rina glanced at the display, and saw that he was checking mails.

“How does that even work in here?”, she asked, curious.

Her father moved his fingers, so that only half of the phone’s back was covered, and the display changed to swirling colours as was to be expected in a wizard building.

“My _scutum_ does have the strangest side effects.”

He moved his fingers again and pointed at the display.

“Look, there is a request for next Christmas, almost a year in advance.” He shook his head. “Christmas gets worse every year.”

He pointed at another mail. “And that woman! I swear she writes a mail a day. She organises her cousin’s wedding in May, and she seems to think that it can only be a success if she mails Fortescue and Miller's once a day. She’s already changed the menu a dozen times. She even wrote on Christmas eve.”

“Dad, people want their wedding to be the happiest day of their life.”

“Which is stupid. Imagine, your life only going downwards once you’re wed.”

“A hasty marriage on short notice with the registrar as witness is not to everybody’s taste.”

“It does ensure that you have better days ahead.”

“Only if you count house elves running rogue all over the country as better days.”

“That only happened afterwards, when our marriage was registered in the ministry of magic. And your mum counts that as an improvement on how things were before.”

“You don’t?”

Dad grinned. “It must be my greatest achievement. And it never ceases to amuse me. It is a pity Sammael Malfoy was not there to see the backlash of his pact.”

His grin faded so quickly, that Rina knew, that someone was behind them. She turned.

A goblin was standing just behind Rina.

“Squib, follow me!”

Well, that certainly didn’t start well.


	10. On probation (July 21, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is on probation and the Dark Lord asks him to do a simple task, but is it simple?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback chapter. I guess you could still see this as extended canon. I mean Voldemort probably had some plans with high profile muggleborns?

It was oddly calming to look at the little creek that ran through the small wilderness in the park of Malfoy Manor. Draco had loved this place as a child, and so far, this place had not been compromised, not tainted by killing or torture. Listening to the burbling water was soothing.

Draco tried to gain control of his thoughts. He would have to become a better _occlumens_ if he wanted to have any chance of survival at all. He had prided himself on being good enough to shut Dumbledore out, but his certainty about his skills had wavered when he understood that Dumbledore must have known the whole time. When his mother had thanked Severus Snape for finishing the task that had been his, he had finally understood. Snape had told Dumbledore about his task, and Dumbledore had trusted Snape to prevent Draco from killing him. Only to be betrayed.

So, Draco could not know if his occlumency had really been enough to shut Dumbledore out. And it was just his luck that the person who had proven to be a better _occlumens_ than Dumbledore was also the one person he couldn’t possibly ask to help him hone his skills. Draco had to scoff. It would certainly not be a good idea to ask Snapeif he could teach him more occlumency so that the Dark Lord would not realise that Draco was not loyal, that he hated him.

For now, it was probably best not to shield his thoughts too obviously. A blank mind would be suspicious. He would have to concentrate on the thoughts that could not expose him. And he probably should practice his unspoken spells.

One of the bushes at the creek rustled. A small ferret sniffed at the air and descended to the creek. Draco went still and slowly directed his wand at the animal. It was time to test a theory. He hated ferrets anyway.

Draco remembered his fourth year and Alastor Moody who had introduced the class to the unforgivable curses. “ _Each of you could yell the killing curse and nothing would happen.”_

“ _Avada kedavra_ ”, he thought, and a green light shot from his wand and hit the ferret. The little animal fell into the creek with a splash.

Draco edged closer, when the ferret sprang up again, shook itself and ran.

“Looks like I don’t hate ferrets that much,” Draco muttered under his breath.

“What a strange pastime, Draco,” he heard a voice behind him. “Did you try to kill that poor ferret?”

It was Severus Snape. And there was no use in denying anything. The green light of the killing curse was rather unique.

Draco shrugged. “Just practicing unspoken spells. They need some refining.” That was not a lie.

Severus Snape's face was unreadable. “The Dark Lord awaits us in his dining room. He wants to sit in judgement amongst his loyal followers.”

Draco did not comment on the fact that it was not actually the Dark Lord’s dining room. That the Dark Lord had taken over the manor as his residence was supposedly an honour. Draco had no doubt that the judgement would not be in favour of Hogwarts teacher Charity Burbage, who was being held at the manor to await her fate.

The cold sweat that ran down his back as soon as he came into the Dark Lord’s presence had become oddly familiar. The Dark Lord’s eyes on him felt like a heavy burden. Draco pushed his fear into the forefront of his thoughts. Better to be thought a coward than a traitor.

The so-called judgement on Charity Burbage went as was to be expected. Bile rose in Draco’s throat when the Dark Lord killed her and fed her to Nagini. He tried to look elsewhere and concentrated on not throwing up. He barely registered that they made plans to hunt down Potter. He did not know if he should be relieved that he was not to be involved. It meant that he would not have to move against the one person who might have at least a chance to defeat the Dark Lord, but it also was clear that he was not trusted. And Draco was certain, that he would get another task to have his loyalty tested.

It was barely a surprise that his father had to give up his wand. The Dark Lord had no qualms about showing his distrust. Draco hated to see his father so subservient. It only reminded him that all the bravado and pride his father had expressed over the years had been a lie. It only reminded him that the man he thought would protect him at any cost was helpless in the face of the dark wizard who had occupied their house. That death might hit any time. Draco tried to bolt from the table as soon as the plan on how to catch Potter was agreed upon, but the Dark Lord called him back.

“Draco.” His eyes seemed to bore into Draco’s scull and Draco desperately pushed his fear in the front of his mind again. It was not difficult.

“I have a task for you, that should be easy enough.”

The other death eaters laughed. Draco could see his mother pressing her lips together.

“My Lord,” he answered.

“There is this mudblood, that hangs around Harry Potter,” the Dark Lord said. “What is her name?”

Draco bowed for a moment, breaking eye contact. His fear threatened to overwhelm him. His thoughts whirled. When he looked up and met the Dark Lord’s eyes again, the memory of Hermione punching him in the face in third year was the thought he pushed forward.

“Granger.”

The Dark Lord laughed. “You let that slip of a girl hit you.”

Draco blushed and held on to the memory of the punch. He felt the Dark Lord probing his mind further. “She bested me in every class but potions. She does not know her place. I’ve hated her for years.” Not a lie.

It was easy to string thoughts about her into a line for the Dark Lord to follow, thoughts about her besting him, about her getting points, about her waving her arm, when she wanted to answer a question. It was even easy to conjure up the feelings of hate and disgust he had felt once, his simmering sense of the unfairness of their teachers favouring her. Draco did not know if he imagined it, but he almost felt the Dark Lord picking up his thoughts and examining them.

The Dark Lord smirked. “Then you should have no problem, getting your revenge by killing her and her parents.”

Draco should have expected it. It still felt like a punch, and he could feel the blood drain from his face. He pushed his fear, his hesitation, his cowardice to the forefront of his mind, in the hope, that his reluctance, his revulsion would stay hidden.

The man laughed. “You really are not the most strong-willed of my death eaters, are you?”

Draco felt more than he saw that his mother was about to step forward.

“My Lord,” she called out. “Let me do this!”

“Ah, Narcissa,” the Dark Lord said. “No, Draco shall do it. He must learn how to kill. We must root out pity from the hearts of our followers. We have access to the ministry’s files on mudbloods and their parents. Minister Thickness will give you the address.”

The Dark Lord nodded to the heavily _imperiussed_ minister who smiled blithely.

***

Draco kissed his mother on the cheek before he left. He did not dare to show more affection. It would not do for anybody to suspect that he had no intention to follow the Dark Lord’s order. He suspected his mother knew. She had volunteered to relieve him of his task, as if her killing for him would save him. As if it would make this any better. Deep in her eyes he saw her desperation. Not telling her anything was the only choice he had.

It was dark by the time he apparated to 7, Mayweed Grove. No lights burned in the house. He tested for wards and was surprised to find none. Either Granger had been so stupid as to feel safe or her wards were undetectable. He suspected the latter, but even running several detection spells produced nothing. Could the Grangers have left? Draco felt a flicker of hope. He might not have to fake a defeat after all.

He opened the door with an unspoken _alohomora_. He illuminated the house with his hand of glory and searched through it. It was mostly empty, only odd pieces left, a shattered photo frame here, an abandoned stool there. The house still felt like it had been inhabited until recently, but the family had moved out. And although the move had been hasty, the lack of furniture told Draco that it had been planned. He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. Although he knew he probably should report back, curiosity made him search all the rooms.

Draco decided that the room on the left with a blue carpet must have been Hermione’s. He could smell the lingering smell of violets, persistent but unobtrusive. There was a note of cinnamon as well, a sharp refreshing lemony overtone and just a hint of fresh paper. The smell reminded him of something, but the memory eluded him at the moment.

He sighed in relief. She was gone. She and her parents had probably left the country. His lips burned with the memory of the kiss they had shared in the hospital wing on that moonlit night.

Before he left, he picked up the shattered photo frame that had stayed behind in what probably used to be the living room. A middle-aged couple about the age of his own parents, but with a look of normalcy about them smiled into the camera. They did not move. Draco shook the photo before he remembered that Muggle photos did not move. He recognised Hermione’s eyes in the face of the woman. She had obviously inherited her curls from her father though. Even with his hair cut short the curls were distinctive.

“I wonder how you would look with short hair,” he told an absent Hermione.

He was about to leave when something struck him as odd. The couple on the picture was not in the centre of the photo. Mr Granger had one arm around his wife, but the other lay on the back of the sofa. Draco could easily picture Hermione sitting next to her parents.

It hit him then. She had not left the country. He could hear his own ragged breath, when his knees gave way under him while he tried to fit the puzzle pieces. Her parents had left the country, but not her. She had tempered with their minds. Some kind of memory charm, that had affected the photos. Wherever Mr and Mrs Granger were they probably had no idea they had owned this house or had a daughter. They were safe and could not be used as leverage against Hermione. Draco let out a wail of anguish. If he knew her at all she would be with Potter and in danger of falling into the ambush the Dark Lord planned.

There was a chance that she would be somewhere safe already, maybe with the Weasleys. Not a very comforting thought, but still better than in danger. Draco tried to make his mind work. He should return, that would be safer for his mother, but he also should probably hide what he had found out. He wondered if his method of pushing his fear at the front of this thoughts would be enough.

A shadow of a plan formed in his mind. He went into the former kitchen and looked for some glass that could serve his purpose. He found an empty bottle which would have to do. He transformed the bottle into a vial. Reluctantly, he pulled memories from his mind. Hermione at the Yule Ball, beautiful as a fay, Hermione flushed with excitement when she mastered a spell. Hermione’s eyes searching for him after he had been strong enough to go to classes again. Each memory that might betray him went into the vial. When he retrieved the memory of the moonlit night in the hospital wing, he almost cried. A faint smell of violets was in his nose. He corked the vial and slipped it into his pockets. He searched for the memory of their kiss and just found the certainty that it had happened, as if it was something that someone else had done. There would be nothing for the Dark Lord to find.

Afterwards he wreaked havoc on the house. He cast about every destructive spell he could think of, quickly and in short order, systematically reducing the house to shreds. He disapparated when the neighbours called the Muggle police.

“They have fled the country”, Draco told the Dark Lord. He could feel Severus Snape’s scrutinizing eyes on him. His mother’s face gave nothing away, not even a faint echo of the relief Draco knew she felt.

He let him pick his brain, led him on a short chase after his relief that he had not had to kill. He had his reputation as a coward to uphold after all.

“Your wand,” the Dark Lord said.

Draco handed over his wand. The Dark Lord cast a _priori incantatem_ on it. Fortunately, he was bored by the destructive spells that the wand spouted long before the detraction of memories was shown.

“Why didn’t you just burn the house?”, the Dark Lord asked.

Draco shrugged. The vial felt like a block of ice against his leg, while cold sweat ran down his back.

“I thought it was a good opportunity to practice unspoken spells,” he answered. Not a lie.


	11. Getting galleons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tries to exchange pounds to galleons from a very reluctant banker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I have said already in the author's note of chapter 9, the pound-galleon system is not really coherent, and I tried to make sense of it. I do think that about 800 pounds for a wand that in theory should last a wizard's or witch's life would be an adequate price, especially if you think about rare wand cores. So, this is my idea. There is also the 'official' exchange rate, that I interpret as an aid for muggleborns who do after all not come into the wizarding world with a vault of their own in existence.
> 
> Since Percy Weasley is in this chapter I want to say that a) there is a reason he acts that way, apart from being a fastidious accountant and b) I always thought that JKR made not enough of the fact that Percy worked for the Voldemort infested ministry for a year. Yes, sure, in the end he stood with his family (and I just love, love, love that scene), but boy did it take him a long time to realize that the ministry was corrupt. I mean, with the "registration of muggleborns" and everything, how did he not realize who he was working for? My idea is that he realized but only worked up his courage at the last moment. I do not blame him. Living under a tyrant is shitty and he probably was afraid.
> 
> So, my characters are grey, and the PoV of the chapters colour how you as readers see the people involved (at least this is my intention). So, none of the Weasleys are bad in this fic, it is just that life is complicated and it might take a while until we see why some people do what they do.
> 
> If you like my ridiculous headcanon, do not hesitate to leave comments. Nice comments make my day and get me going!

Rina followed the goblin and her dad with a sense of foreboding. They were led to a different area, to a counter that was clearly meant for potentially disreputable customers. Rina clutched her bag in one hand and gripped her wand in the other.

Behind the counter was a red-headed man in his middle ages, maybe slightly older than dad. He probably would have been handsome if not for his mien that spoke of an assiduous clerk, someone who met his superior’s expectation with avid punctuality.

The look he gave them was decidedly unfriendly. “You have some gall, Malfoy, to come here today of all days.”

Dad’s face gave nothing away and frightened Rina. He did not look like dad at all. “Mr. Weasley. I would like to exchange British pounds into galleons. I am well within my rights. Last I checked, there are no days unsuitable for this endeavour as long as the bank is open.”

Mr. Weasley threw a paper on the counter. It was an extra afternoon edition of the Daily prophet.

 **‘It just didn’t work out’** was the headline and below was a photo of England’s famous quidditch keeper and a beautiful witch with dark curls. They seemed to scowl at each other.

Rina suppressed a groan. She had no difficulty recognizing Ron “Weasley is our king, he never lets the quaffle in”. It looked like he had ‘irreconcilable differences’.

“I do not see how a piece of gossip in the Prophet is in any way connected to my wish to get galleons in exchange for pounds.” Dad’s mouth became a thin, almost invisible line.

“Don’t you?”

Mr. Weasley smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “It certainly does not interfere with your right to exchange. I can’t vouch for the time of negotiation or the rate of exchange. I suggest you return another day, when I am more in the mood.”

“I would prefer to purchase galleons today.”

“I guess, you’ll have to beg then, Malfoy. Or you could always negotiate with Mr Fawley, if you prefer that.”

Her dad bared his teeth. “Thank you, Mr Weasley, for the offer. I choose the begging, instead of Fawley’s method of negotiation. Shall we proceed, Mr Weasley? I’d like to have an official receipt for the pounds and then I’ll do all the begging you want me to.”

“Show me, what you brought.” Mr Weasley did not sound glad at dad’s insistence.

Dad opened her bag, took out the bundle of pounds and began to count the pounds on the counter.

“…800.” The count was finished.

“800, noted”. Mr Weasley took the notes. The moment he got hold of them, his face suddenly became even darker.

“What are you playing at, Malfoy? This is fucking muggle plastic.”

“Paper notes have been gradually replaced by plastic notes for two years. This is valid Muggle money. You should ask someone who knows about this.”

Rina’s heart pounded wildly. The unfairness made her see red. Drawing her wand was a smooth motion, but the hex she sent, struck her dad’s hand who had been faster than her, anticipating her. It puffed away, harmlessly, with just the tiniest of sparks.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t see that,” Mr Weasley said, while dad gripped her arm and shook his head, vehemently.

“Is your daughter even of age? Or did I just witness her offending the law.”

“I am an adult,” Rina protested, blood racing to her face.

“Sadly, lacking decent upbringing and manners, I’d say. But what would you expect from a death eater’s daughter.”

“My father was acquitted. He was acquitted. And that was twenty years ago.” Rina clamped her teeth together.

“Your father was acquitted because of benefit of the doubt, Ms Malfoy.”

“It’s Ms Granger- Malfoy. Certainly you would not forget who my mother is.” She narrowed her eyes. “You know, the witch without whom Harry Potter would have died a thousand times over.”

“I am quite certain, Rina, that Mr Weasley needs no reminder about the identity of your mother.” Dad’s face was still a mask, but his eyes clearly told her to shut up.

Mr Weasley scowled at her. “Your mother is also the witch that disrupted wizarding society and overthrew a perfectly capable minister of magic, all because she associated with a murderer.”

Rina opened her mouth, but her father’s hand descended on her arm again, and pressed on it, hard.

“I beg to differ. First, I’d say that my wife did not overthrow your father. She just reminded him publicly of the fact that even the minister of magic must adhere to the law. Second, I did not kill anybody.”

“That has never been proven, Malfoy. There are plenty of people who doubt that.”

Rina felt tears spring to her eyes, but managed to hold on. It was all so unfair.

Her dad shrugged. “Be that as it may, any crimes would fall under the statute of limitation after two decades anyway.”

“You really have some nerve, Malfoy. Maybe I should just send you down to the Malfoy vault to get some galleons and see what happens.”

“I doubt, even a Weasley would do something as stupid as that. A clash between the protection on the vault and my _scutum_ might blow this place up. So, shall we proceed with negotiations? Why don’t you have it checked that the money is genuine?”

Mr Weasley narrowed his eyes. He waved to a Goblin and asked him to fetch Mr Fawley. Then he took a paper form, a quill, and sat down.

“What do you need the galleons for?”

Dad frowned. “That is none of your business.”

Mr Weasley’s face took on an ugly red colour. “You are being difficult today, Malfoy. It’s a new ministry regulation against money laundering.”

“Which surely is against paragraph 32 of squib law that protects privacy.”

Mr Weasley smiled. “But you are not a squib, are you? So… you are obliged to tell me, as long as your wife does not hand in one of her remonstrations against wizarding law.”

He put down the quill. “That is, if you want to make an exchange. I’ve already told you, that it might be better to return another day.”

Dad pressed his lips together and stayed silent for a moment. Rina wondered if he was tempted to leave.

He drew a deep breath. “I need the galleons for the same purpose as always. School equipment for my children.”

Mr Weasley’s quill still hovered over the parchment. “School starts in September, it’s January.”

“My son needs a new wand.”

The quill scribbled on the parchment.

“So, you would need about seven galleons? Given the usual price at Ollivander’s? I am surprised, Malfoy, you actually brought enough pounds to get the sum you need for once.”

Rina could not help herself. “The official exchange rate is five to one,” she protested. Ollivander would never sell them a wand for seven galleons.

Her dad scowled at her.

“You are quite right, Ms Malfoy, but that is only for muggles who need to buy at Diagon alley for their wizard or witch children. This is not the exchange we set for others. Galleons are partly gold, just in case you didn’t know, and we can’t have people take the galleons, melt them and make a fortune out of them in the Muggle world.”

“That would be illegal.”

“Which is why we have to prevent it from happening.”

“Rina, I want you to wait outside, while I discuss this with Mr Weasley.” Dad’s eyes clearly told her that she was not improving the situation.

Rina fought tears and nodded. She clutched her bag and her wand and turned.

“Where are your manners?” she heard behind her back.

She felt the blood drain from her face.

“Good bye, Mr Weasley, have a nice evening,” she pressed out.

She managed to walk out with her head held high and tears held firmly in check. When she had reached the entrance, she risked a glance back and gasped when she saw that her father was on his knees.

She stumbled outside; sat on the stairs that led to the great entrance of the bank. _‘Beg, Malfoy’,_ he had said. It looked like Mr Weasley was true to his word. She was oblivious to the people around her and just let her tears fall.


	12. Rooting out compassion (August 15, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes precautions in case of a new task and finds a loophole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder, that Draco is not a defendant of house elf rights. He still has a way to go, and he barely sees them as sentient creatures.  
> That is why I decided that at this stage he would think of any house elf as "it".

**Draco Malfoy’s memories as retrieved on August 8, 2020**

The ministry had fallen. Thicknesse was minister now, and Dolores Umbridge became the right hand of the minister again. Muggleborns were called to the ministry to register, on the pretence of researching why they had magic. Draco knew that their wands would be confiscated and snapped.

There was still a semblance of order, as if the Dark Lord did not want to claim power in the wizarding world too brazenly, as if he did not want to just call himself the tyrant he was, for as long as Potter was alive and unaccounted for.

Draco dreaded the assemblies in the Manor’s dining room. He felt constantly under surveillance, the Dark Lord’s eyes probing his mind, ridiculing his fear. He became so accustomed to push his fear in the front of this thoughts, that he could barely let it go, even when he was alone, or just with his mother. Fear was his constant companion.

He spent a lot of time in the library, trying to find a way to work around _priori incantatem_. He knew that the next order to kill someone would soon come, probably before school started. He briefly let himself hope, that school would be a relief, but that hope died the moment he learned that Carrow would be teaching “Defence against the Dark Arts”, “Dark Arts” more likely.

Draco flipped through a book on wands. It was a more recent book and had an index, but _priori incantatem_ was not in it. Opening books on random pages would not get him very far. To find something like that, he would have to be very lucky. And luck had never been on his side. He wondered if he should ask Ollivander, who was currently held in their cellar. He immediately chided himself for that idea. Even if he tampered with Ollivander’s memory afterwards, it was too risky. He could trust nobody.

A part of him wished, he could ask Granger. He pictured her giving him her most condescending look. _Malfoy, I can’t believe you overlooked that. It was in the Charms book in third year._ It felt odd to realise that he could still smile.

A distinct plop pulled him from his reverie, when a house elf apparated in the library. He had his wand out in the blink of an eye, and the elf squeaked.

“Prudy,” he shouted. “Do not apparate so close to me. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He shuddered. What if it had not been Prudy, but Snape. Snape who probably could read his thoughts within seconds.

The house elf bowed. “Sorry, Master Draco.” The little creature began to slap itself, after it had carefully laid the tray it carried on the floor.

Draco looked at the elf and was hit by an idea.

“Stop it,” he said absentmindedly. He pointed at the tray. “My mother told you to bring me something to eat?”

Prudy looked at him with large eyes. “Mistress said that Master Draco does not eat enough.”

That was true enough. Sometimes Draco wondered if ribs could be visible through wizard’s robes.

The creature’s eyes were pleading. “Please, Master Draco, eat.”

“I am not hungry.”

Prudy began whacking its ears, wailing.

“Stop it”, Draco said again. He took one of the sandwiches.

He waved his wand and put a silencing charm around them.

“I forbid you to speak to anyone about what I’ll ask you.”

Prudy nodded. It looked pointedly at the sandwich in Draco’s hand and he took a bite. The creature sighed in relief.

“I mean it,” he said. “No skirting around this. I order you to rather kill yourself than disclose any of this.”

Draco steeled himself to ignore the pleading in its eyes. He knew that house elves could find loopholes This was necessary. His eyes bore into the elf’s, until Prudy nodded.

“Is there a way to cheat on the _priori incantatem_ spell?”

The little elf shuddered. “We are not allowed to tamper with wizards and witches’ spells.”

“Say, your master is in mortal danger.”

Prudy’s eyes became as large as plates. “We can do much, if our masters are in danger or the order is strong enough.” It could have been the whimper of a mouse.

Draco bent down until his head was at the same level as the elf’s.

“When someone does _priori incantatem_ on my wand, can you create an illusion so that it looks like I have done other spells?”

“Yes,” the creature whispered. “If you tell me, what you want to be seen.”

Relief flooded Draco until he almost laughed.

The little creature fidgeted. It probably was afraid, and Draco could not blame it.

“You will hold yourself ready. Stay as close to me as possible. I may need your skills any time.”

He wriggled the ring with the Malfoy crest from his left ring finger.

“Here, close your hands around it.”

Prudy did as she was told, and Draco took the ring back and placed several charms on it.

“Now, I can call you with this ring, when I tap my thumb and my index finger on it three times. When I do this, stay invisible and show the Dark Lord what he wants to see.”

He would just have to hope that circumstances would never prevent him using his hands. He couldn’t account for every possibility.

“I am going to remove this talk from my memory. I’ll just remember the gist of it, but no details.”

He put his wand at his temple and drew out a silver-white line. He took the vial from his pocket, added the memory, and corked it again.

He turned it in his hand for a few seconds, and then he gave it to Prudy.

“Guard these with your life.”

***

**Court record of Draco Malfoy’s trial – October 5, 2001**

[Prosecution] “Mr Malfoy, report your dealings on August 21, 1997.”

[Accused] “Voldemort had given me the order to kill a random Muggle family. Severus Snape was to show me a house. He left me alone to ‘work up my courage’ as he put it. At that time, I was sure he acted on Voldemort’s order to test my loyalty and make me overcome my weakness. I'm sure, he observed what I did.”

[Prosecution] “But you do not know, if Severus Snape observed you?”

[Accused] “No, if he did, he might have put this into his own memory stash.”

[Prosecution] “Which only you insist exists.”

[Defence] “Objection!”

[Judge] “Sustained. Keep on track, Mr Sloane.”

[Prosecution] “What did you do then?”

[Accused] “I stunned and confounded the Muggles, tampered with their memories and portkeyed them away. Then I set fire to their house. I pulled parts of my memory and stored them away. I told Snape I had killed the family and made sure that I threw up by taking a puking pastille, because he would never believe me to be sanguine about it.”

[Prosecution] “According to Selwyn’s statement, which the jury may verify in the evidence folder, Voldemort not only questioned you about the killing, but he also read your mind and ran a _priori incantatem_ , which clearly showed four _adava kedavra_ spells that killed Muggles in addition to the arson of their house. Do you truly want the jury to believe that you worked your way around all that?”

[Defence] “Objection”

[Judge] “Sustained. Mr Sloane, rephrase your question.”

[Prosecution] “Mr Malfoy, how did you manage to convince Voldemort you did the killing?”

[Accused] “I lied with the truth. I told him, that I had found it difficult to kill and left out that I had not done it. When he read my mind, I pushed forward how I had burned the house and how I had thrown up afterwards, how Snape had watched me with contempt. When he ran _priori incantatem_ , Prudy conjured up an illusion. He believed me then.”

[Prosecution] (to the jury) “Esteemed wizards and witches of the Wizengamot, please note, that Mister Malfoy’s testimony cannot be verified. Severus Snape’s memories on Mister Malfoy, if they ever existed…”

[Defence] “Objection!”

[Prosecution] “Severus Snape’s memories are not available, nor is this something he inserted into the memories his portrait holds. The accused himself claims he detracted his own memory, but this cannot be verified, because his memory vial is under a _scutum_ that cannot be undone. Selwyn on the other hand, fully cooperated during his own trial. Mr Malfoy’s only witness is his own house elf.”

[Defence] “Objection!”

[Judge] “What is it now, Miss Granger?”

[Defence] “The Prosecution insinuates that the house elf Prudy is still in the possession of Mister Malfoy, when she is a free elf currently working at Hogwarts for a salary.”

[Judge] (sighing) “Sustained.”

[Prosecution] “I want it put on record, that while the killing of the Muggle family cannot be proven right now, the accused just admitted that he committed arson.”


	13. An anonymous donation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Rina meet Astoria Greengrass, charms professor at Hogwarts and she has some information to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to repeat that there is more to Percy and his reasons than meets they eye. 
> 
> The lovely dena-1984 from tumblr made a moodboard for my fic, although she has not even read HP. I am so happy about that!  
> I added this at the bottom of this chapter!  
> Check my tumblr!

Fawley had insisted on checking the pounds in a room which was far away from prying eyes. Percy Weasley had nodded his approval, as if going to a separate room was normal procedure. He handed over the pounds after turning them several times in his hands, as if he wanted to test the feeling. Draco had not held any hope for a swift exchange after he saw the article in the Prophet, but he had hoped, that begging would prove to be enough. Not this time though. He would not get away lightly today.

Draco knew why Percy Weasley disliked him. He knew, why he had to prove, over and over again, that he stood firmly on the Weasleys side. Why he could not let it lie. An unaddressed bad conscience could lead to terrible results. It meant that the normally rule-abiding Percy Weasley pretended not to realise what ‘negotiating’ with Fawley meant. And Fawley made sure, that nothing would be visible at first glance.

Draco had no idea what made Fawley tick though. If you looked at the insults he threw at Draco, he either hated him for being a squib, which was technically untrue, or for marrying a muggleborn or for being responsible for rogue house elves or for leaking pureblood society secrets to a lawyer. Fawley just hated him. At least, after ‘negotiating’ for half an hour, Percy Weasley had knocked on the door. Half an hour was probably what his conscience allowed him, and Draco had gotten the signature that his 800 pounds were indeed genuine.

The irony that he got this signature from a wizard with thinly disguised pureblood prejudice was not lost on him, but laughing hurt. Draco wondered if his ribs were just bruised or if they might be cracked. He would have to see a doctor. Should he tell Hermione? She was away on an international conference from Thursday on, and he might be able to play over it. If he told her, she would cry, swear that her next case would be profitable, that he would never have to do the trip again. That she would sue Fawley and Gringotts to hell and back. He smiled wryly at the image of Hermione seething with anger.

A law suit against Fawley and Gringotts might even be winnable, especially if Hermione put her mind to it, but at the end of the day, they still needed school equipment, Hermione would still defend clients who had no knut to spare and with current Muggle politics, changing pounds to euros and making an exchange somewhere on the continent was not an option. His bruises on the other hand would fade. A typical case of “solve one problem, get eight more”, or SOPGEM as he and Hermione liked to call it.

Draco gave his receipt to Percy Weasley. “The pounds are genuine. Can I get galleons now?”

The redhead nodded. Draco could see that he was a bit uneasy and he was not above exploiting Weasley’s bout of conscience.

“Could I have a glass of water, please?”, he asked.

There were glasses and water for customers and Weasley gestured silently to them. Draco poured himself a glass and angled for aspirin in his pockets. He pressed two pills in his hand and downed them with the water.

“Muggle painkillers”, he explained, arching an eyebrow as if he let Weasley in on a secret.

Weasley’s cheeks became slightly redder than before, but he kept silent. Draco did not say anything more. It was important that the banker could pretend that nothing illegal had happened.

He shoved a paper form in Draco’s hand.

“Sign here, that you got the galleons.”

Draco’s eyes widened when he saw that Weasley had given him twelve galleons in exchange.

He signed the parchment and handed it over to Weasley.

On a whim he took a sheet of paper from his pocket and wrote down the signs he had seen on Fawley’s wrist.

**_IV * VII_ **

“How is Gringotts’ policy on blood suprematists, Mr Weasley?” he asked.

“You know very well, Mr Malfoy, that such people are not allowed in any position where their opinion could be harmful. I am quite astonished that you of all people would ask such a question.”

His scowl made Draco hastily bag the galleons, just in case.

“I saw this on Fawley’s arm, when he rolled up his sleeves. I’d bet all my money that this is a sign for the sacred 28 and you should probably look into it.”

“I have never seen anything like that, certainly not on Mr Fawley, I don’t know why I should believe you, and you shouldn’t bet money we both know you do not have, Mr Malfoy.” Percy Weasley looked down his nose.

“Just in a manner of speaking, Mr Weasley.” Draco stood up. “Have a nice evening and be sure to tell your brother how I begged for money. I guess he needs all the uplifting entertainment he can get.”

He probably shouldn’t have said that, but his tongue sometimes had just a life of its own.

***

When he left Gringotts, galleons close to his body, just in case, he saw Rina standing on the stairs, a witch, Draco knew quite well, at her side. It was Astoria Greengrass, the Charms professor at Hogwarts, since Hermione had represented her in her case against her own father. If he had lived his life as the Malfoy heir, he would have probably married Astoria or her older sister. Considering where Astoria’s preferences ran, that would have been a decidedly unhappy marriage. He could just picture himself with Astoria by his side, with the one and only son and heir, probably named after a star constellation in the Black tradition. He shuddered briefly.

Rina had a white handkerchief in her hands and blew her nose. Draco felt a sudden tug at his heart, as he always did, when he saw one of his children hurt and could do nothing about it.

“Good evening, Astoria,” he addressed the witch.

She gave him a curt nod. “Your daughter needed a tissue. I was about to go and offer her some tea.”

“Thank you, Professor” Rina sniffed. Her voice sounded small and subdued and Draco felt that tug again.

He smiled at Rina. “I got enough for a wand. Don’t you worry.” Close up, he could see that her eyes were still glittering with tears.

He placed his arm around her, and his daughter hugged him back. He tried to hide that the sudden impact on his ribs hurt him.

Draco took out his phone to text Hermione. He frowned at the crack on the screen. That must have been Fawley’s negotiating skills. Well, he would just have to change the screen protection.

Hermione had sent a rather frantic text. _What happened? I had to get rid of five howlers already. Did you get in a fight with RW? Are you o.k.? Ily._

Howlers. He wondered why none had found him yet. Howlers got a bit confused around him, but if Hermione had gotten five, at least one should have found him. Gringotts probably had howler-repelling magic. No banking house worth its money would allow such a disturbance of paying customers.

 _Weasel apparently in irreconcilable differences (again). Special afternoon edition of the Prophet, just the usual garbage. Got the money, tell Colin to meet us at Ollivander’s_ , _lyt._ The rest would have to wait.

“I trust you are well?” he asked Astoria. “I hear you are a good teacher.”

Astoria nodded. “Thank you. I like it. During the holidays I’ve been doing some research to give Headmaster Flitwick a helping hand. I’ve undertaken the task to look into the failure of the school’s wizarding register scroll.”

“Failure of the school scroll?”

“We told you about that, dad. At the sorting, last September? There was one girl who was not on the list, but she was sorted into Hufflepuff with Lizzie.”

Draco remembered. He had joked that the Sorting Hat must have gotten into his dotage.

Astoria grimaced. “The parents were livid. They even threatened to sue Hogwarts. It was an old wizarding family into the bargain.”

“If the school scroll fails, muggleborns might be overlooked,” Draco said.

“Exactly.”

Draco frowned. “The school scroll is very old magic. Are there other signs, it is failing? Are you searching for other cases?”

Astoria nodded. “I found three so far. Old wizarding families whose children were not in the school scroll but have magic.”

Draco tooted. “That is a potential disaster. Any unregistered muggleborns yet?”

She shook her head.

“You should have my wife take a look at the scroll.”

“I don’t doubt your wife’s competence, but that scroll was made by the founders themselves.”

Draco could not help himself. “And my wife has a very vivid imagination when it comes to transcending the boundaries of what can be done with magic.”

Astoria barked a laugh.

“You’re hardly looking for magical children at Gringotts though,” Draco said.

Her face closed, very suddenly.

Draco raised his hand. “I don’t want to pry. We’ll have to be off anyway before Ollivander shuts the doors on us.”

Astoria shook her head. “There is no reason you cannot know. You might even be interested.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and Astoria bit her lips as if she had to think what to say.

“Hogwarts has been given a very generous donation by an old family and I was given authority to collect the money.”

It was as if he had gotten another punch. Draco had not thought that ribs could hurt that much.

“Any conditions?”, he asked. “Rich people usually give money only under conditions.”

“Like buying brooms for the Quidditch team so that someone gets on the team?” Rina piped up.

Draco shot her a half-amused look. “For the last time. I did not become seeker for Slytherin through bribes. I made the team after try outs.”

Rina giggled. “That’s what he always says. My mum doesn’t believe him.”

“It is one of the few things we fight about.” Draco admitted. In a way it was a ridiculous reason to fight, but most of their fights were laughable, at least after the fact.

“I am not sure I believe you either, considering your behaviour in school.” Astoria said.

Draco huffed.

“Anyway, there are no conditions, no regulations on which house should benefit. It is just a huge sum for school equipment, books, potion kettles, anything.”

“How unusual,” Draco remarked. He tried not to sound too interested. His _scutum_ should repel any side effects of the cut-out curse, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He probably imagined it, but he thought he could feel the tendrils of the malevolent magic trying to reach for him.

“In a way it is a tragic case. The heir of the family has … vanished, and now his mother wants to do as much as she can for …. “, she halted and looked pointedly at Rina.

Draco nodded, not trusting his voice. This was a day for old wounds to reopen, he thought. It hurt much more than the negotiation with Fawley.

“For what would be just considered the heir’s byblows in pureblood tradition.”

Draco licked his lips and scoffed shortly. “I see.”.

Rina’s eyes were full of questions, but Draco pressed his finger to her lips.

“Thank you,” he said and closed his eyes. “Do you happen to meet this very benevolent donator in the near future?”

“I might.”

“Could you do me a kindness, Astoria?”

“If I can.”

“Tell her, I know. Tell her, I’ve always known.”

Her eyes were full of understanding and pity. Draco resented the pity but reminded himself that Astoria had her own problems with her family. And Astoria did not deserve his resentment.

Rina and Draco bade her good evening.

**Fic moodboard by @dena-1984**


	14. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Rina talk and we learn some things about Percy Weasley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It can be very dangerous to be in a resistance during dictatorship and I think it is interesting what people's opinion are after the dictator has been defeated. I honestly think, that Snape would not be hailed as a hero, if he had not died.  
> A double agent has to do many shady things, and there is always the question whose side a person is really on. So, it ultimately comes down to what people want to believe.  
> In this fic, Draco did defect from Voldemort, but circumstances were such, that it was hard to believe that, and there was no proof.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Rina opened her mouth.

“Was that about your mother?”

Draco shushed her. “You’d better not ask after details, Rina. And that is not a request, that is an order. Better you look it up. Look it up in the ‘Greengrass guide to pureblood boons and banes’, the book Astoria wrote after the Greengrass vs. Greengrass trial.”

The cut-out curse was mentioned in Astoria’s book. A book that had been such a scandal, that Astoria had been offered a job at Hogwarts to be safe. That had been still under McGonnagall.

“I always assumed that you fell out.” Rina’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That this was about your inability to do magic.”

“Yes, everyone assumes, and it is probably for the best.”

“Why?”

“At least she is safe from people who hate me.”

Rina stopped.

“But why, why do people hate you? That is not fair.”

“Life is not fair, Rina.”

“That is not a very satisfying answer.”

“I know, but it is a true answer. I’ll try to explain. For the traditional purebloods, I am a disgrace. They think I should have killed myself the moment the _scutum_ made me unable to do magic. And even if they do not believe I defected during the war, I still married a muggleborn. I still told pureblood secrets to my wife, secrets they have kept to themselves for centuries. Secrets I can only freely talk about because of the _scutum_. Secrets that show just how hypocritical they are. Then there are the people who did not believe in Voldemort, but wriggled through during the war. They look at me and see that it was possible to do something. It is easy to respect Severus Snape for being a double agent and praise him as a hero. He is dead. I am alive.”

He sighed. “And then there are the heroes, who stood against Voldemort. In their world of black and white there is no place for someone like me. For Merlin’s sake, I myself do not remember half of what I did or didn’t do.”

He could see that Rina bit her lip. “But mum…. Mum was a heroine, wasn’t she?”

“Your mum chose me. That discredited her.”

“The man we met today, that’s one of Ron Weasley’s brothers? Why does he hate you? I mean, it was not him, who was engaged to mum.”

“Percy Weasley dislikes me for reasons that have nothing to do with the Weasel.”

Rina frowned. “But the Prophet article?”

“Oh, I am sure, that he **thinks** he dislikes me because your mum left his brother, or because his other brother died in the war or even because your mum brought his father down – which is only true if you squint very hard, but I do think that in his hear of hearts he is just ashamed and seeing me reminds him of that.”

“How so?”

“You know, Percy Weasley worked for the ministry during the war. Your mum says, he claimed that he was uneasy the whole time and knew that something was not right, the hunting of muggleborns only thinly disguised as registering them and all that. And just before the battle of Hogwarts he switched sides and stood with the Order.”

“Why would that make him dislike you? I mean you defected as well?”

“Not that anybody but a few believe that. Percy for sure doesn’t believe I defected. That might come into it as well. Because I know he is a liar. He was in Malfoy Manor, once, with the minister. He knew, he just knew that Voldemort was behind everything. And he knows I know, or rather he suspects I know. It is one of the few things I remember clearly, because there was no reason to tamper with that memory.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“Every time he sees me, he has to prove that his loyalty is and has always been to his family.”

Rina’s face was pale, and Draco stopped and tried to hug her.

“I am sorry, dearest, I am sorry, that you have to live with the burden of my past, with the burden of my family’s past.”

“And yet you wanted him for the exchange. What does that say about the other people at Gringotts?”

“Percy Weasley has his flaws, but he has principles. He adheres to the rules.” At least to a certain degree which included knocking after half an hour and enquiring if checking pounds really should take that long.

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw a red folded paper approaching. About time, he thought. He pointed the howler out to Rina. Rina raised her wand and took aim, although that was not necessary, really. Her patronus burst out and the silver ferret shredded the howler apart, before the thing had even finished saying Draco’s name. Rina gave a satisfied nod.

She resumed walking. “Thank you, dad.”

“What for?”

Rina smiled. “For not lecturing me, saying ‘I told you so’. I guess I should have listened to your advice.”

Draco shook his head. “I am not sure about that.”

Rina looked at him questioningly.

“Look. I don’t want you children to suffer for who your parents are, but not knowing might not help you either. People will assume things about you and if you walk blindly into that, that can’t be good either.” He sighed. “I just don’t know much about being a good dad.”

Rina looked at him, as if he had suddenly become a troll. “Dad, that is ridiculous. We all know you love us. And we love you. You’re a good dad.”

His heart lifted. “Still,” he said. “It’s so bloody complicated. I do not doubt that my father loved me, but he still was a rotten father,” he trailed off.

Rina scoffed. “If he had loved you, he would not have disowned you.”

“It is not as easy as that.”

When they rounded the corner to Ollivander, Draco had found his sense of humour again. “You know, on the other hand, I am reasonably certain, that your grandchildren will be allowed to buy at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”

Rina laughed.

Colin awaited them, with Pansy, not Neville. Pansy had left work early and joined her godson.

The old Ollivander was not in, which was lucky. He had been old even during the war and it was high time he retired. Not seeing his face, was a blessing. Draco had enough of war reminders for a day.

Ollivander’s assistant, a young woman, did not take note of him at all, because she was fawning over Pansy, the famous auror. She helped them search for a wand, and Colin settled on cherry tree with occamy plume. The assistant assured them, that the plume had been taken under the law for magical creatures, from a living animal and without cruelty. Pansy let her show them the certificate and shared a smile with Draco.

Because of the certificate and the rare component, the price was 10 galleons. Colin had a very worried look in his eyes, but Draco counted the galleons and made a joke about how it was a pity that the Granger law firm did not get shares. Sometimes Hermione was just not practical enough.

They left to join Neville, Lizzie and Meg at the café where Pansy had left them.


	15. On the Hogwarts Express (September 1, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy have a revealing talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered about Severus Snape trusting Dumbledore's very shaky and risky plan. It has been my headcanon for ages, that he made other preparations as well.

**Severus Snape’s memory (as retrieved September 2002)**

The memory started with Severus Snape standing on platform 9 ¾. He went up and down the platform, his robes billowing out, and a scowl on his face. It looked intimidating enough to scare off some of the children or their parents, even if every child was obliged to attend Hogwarts under the new minister.

His intimidating look was enough, that nobody dared to share a compartment with him. Snape settled down with the newest issue of ‘The Potionmaster’.

As soon as the train had departed, Death Eaters stopped the train and searched for Undesirable no. 1. Even in the lonely compartment Snape sat in, it was easy to hear Neville Longbottom shouting defiantly that Potter was not here and that they would not get him. Snape shook his head and mumbled: “Gryffindors just don’t know when to keep their heads down.”

When the death eaters had disapparated, Snape called a fifth year Slytherin and told him to bring Draco Malfoy to him to discuss his duties.

Malfoy entered the compartment a short while after the summons. His face had a closed look to it, which might mean that he was doing his best to occlude his thoughts.

“Take a seat, Draco, we have to discuss some of your duties as an older Slytherin this year,” Snape told the young man who stood cross-armed before him. 

Malfoy let his arms fall to his sides, although that did not make him seem more relaxed, and sat down.

“Tea, Draco?”, Snape asked.

“No, thanks. I’ve just had pumpkin juice,” Malfoy answered, his face still a mask.

Snape began to talk about how Malfoy should be an example of pureblood conduct to the younger students, how he should use the opportunity to refine his skills in the Dark arts, that were now taught almost openly at Hogwarts, what would be in the curriculum this year, and many more things. Just when Malfoy’s face changed from wariness to boredom, Snape offered him a chocolate frog.

Malfoy inspected the closed package, thanked his teacher and ate the frog.

The corner of Snape’s mouth moved upward, just a tiny bit.

“Draco what did you learn about potions in first year?” he asked when his student had swallowed the frog.

“That potions usually are as potent as spells if you use the right potion. But I don’t see what is the point of having me rehearse first year’s lessons.”

Snape smiled. “Don’t you?”

Malfoy’s eyes widened in understanding and he blanched.

“Now, tell me everything,” Snape ordered him after casting _muffliato_ on the compartment. His smile was openly smug now.

Malfoy fought the pull of the _veritasserum_. He tried not to babble, and his brows were soon bathed in sweat. He even tried to find a loophole, by telling things that were true, random things, like what he had for breakfast, but in the end, the _veritasserum_ was stronger. Malfoy finally began to stutter, and then words started pouring from his mouth in alarming speed as if they had been pent up too long.

Snape listened in silence, while Malfoy confessed. That he had stopped believing in the Dark Lord and his cause. That he feared for his mother. That he had hidden the truth about Hermione Granger’s whereabouts, whom he suspected to be with Potter. That he had faked killing a Muggle family. That his house-elf had helped him.

Snape did not seem surprised. Only when Malfoy mentioned Hermione, he arched an eyebrow, raising his wand at Malfoy, who closed his eyes and tried to ward of the _legilimens_ spell.

“You tampered with your own memory,” Snape observed.

“I don’t trust my occlumency enough,” Malfoy admitted, his voice hushed. “Not after I realised Dumblodore saw right throug me.”

For minutes his ragged breath was the only sound in the compartment.

“My mother doesn’t know. Nobody does, Professor. I guess I am lucky you are the one who found out. Could you do me a favour and kill me fast?”

He opened his eyes again and stared at Snape as if bracing himself. “Please. And please do not let my mother suffer for my disloyalty.”

“You expect me to kill you,” Snape said.

“Don’t prolong it,” Malfoy clenched through gritted teeth. “You were fast enough when you killed Dumbledore.”

“What exactly is your plan, Draco?” Snape asked.

“There is no plan. I just do not want to help him. I do not want to kill anyone. I just want this nightmare to stop." He drew a shuddering breath. "I would wish for my mother’s safety.“

He laid his hand on his forehead and battled his uneven breathing.

“I guess I hope that Harry Potter is really the chosen one and that he can kill him,” he finally added.

Malfoy began to laugh, a strange sound that held little humour. “Imagine that. I am hoping that Harry Potter will do exactly the hero things, I always despised. Harry Potter! My hope hangs on Potter developing some brains. That should show you how fucked I am.”

Snape joined in on his laughter. It took both a while to catch their breath.

“Maybe I can add to your hope, by confirming that Granger is indeed with Potter, so we know at least that some brains are involved.”

After a final bout of laughter Malfoy sobered up. “How do you know?”

“I’m not going to tell you that.”

“You know where Potter and Granger are? And the Weasel, I suppose?” At the mention of Weasley’s name Malfoy’s face twitched.

Snape nodded.

“And you did not tell the Dark Lord?” Malfoy asked, staring. “You – “, his voice became reduced to a whisper. “ – Merlin, you must be such a powerful _occlumens_.”

Snape shrugged. “Welcome to the resistance against the Dark Lord, Draco”.

“There is a resistance? Who is in?” Malfoy’s eyes were wide.

Snape pointed at himself. “Me, now you, and possibly your house elf, although it didn’t have a say in joining, if I understood you correctly.”

Malfoy was shaking with bouts of laughter again. It did not really sound like he had fun, though. It sounded as if there were sobs in between.

“I do not apologise for using _veritasserum_ on you. I had to be sure.”

Malfoy nodded.

“But why did you kill Dumbledore?”, he asked.

Snape arched an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

Malfoy swallowed. They were silent for a time and Snape drummed his fingers on his knee.

“Dumbledore knew. It was his plan, but why? So that the Dark Lord would trust you above everyone. So that you could be close to him. Dumbledore planned his own death to protect your cover?”

“That was one of the reasons. There were more, I think. One of them was that he did not want you to kill him. One of them was the fact, that he was dying anyway. When I killed him, he had two weeks left, maybe three.”

“His hand!”, Malfoy exclaimed. “That was a death curse?”

Snape nodded. “But Dumbledore did not put all his eggs in one basket. I don’t think he told me everything about the task he gave Potter.”

“What is _your_ plan, Professor?”

“That the Dark Lord finds what he succeeded to avoid for decades.”

“His death,” Malfoy whispered. “I could get behind that plan.”

He bit his lip and thought for a while. “So, the plan is to help Potter although Dumbledore did not let you in on everything.”

Snape nodded. His face twitched shortly. “Unfortunately, I depend on Dumbledore’s portrait in this, although I do have an inkling.”

“I don’t understand why he wasn’t in Slytherin,” Malfoy remarked. “The best way to keep a secret is to tell nobody. That is such a Slytherin approach, isn’t it?”

Snape curled his lips into something approaching a smile.

Malfoy’s face relaxed a fraction. “It seems I have to follow your lead, then. In a way I am relieved.”

He grimaced. “I probably should store away our little talk away. What do I do, if someone else gives me _veritasserum_?”

Snape shrugged. “The Dark Lord mainly relies on curses and spells. And I doubt anybody could brew _veritasserum_ as strong as I do. Your instinct was right anyway. You told me things that are true.”

He tsked. “The sweat gave you away, though, but there is a potion that would help with that. I suggest you take that every time you meet the Dark Lord.”

Malfoy winced. “I hope that I won’t see him until Christmas.”

“Practice until then. Practice. And I would advise you to take extra care, that you hide your feelings for Granger.”

Malfoy flushed furiously, but did not deny anything.

Snape shook his head. “I must admit I am curious, but I won’t ask.”

The young man let out a strained breath.

“Professor,” he asked after a while. “Do you have a plan B? I mean, in case Potter won’t succeed.”

“What do you think?”

Malfoy studied him. “I think you should have one.”

Snape pressed his lips together in thought. “I only have a vague idea. Lay aside your wand for a moment, Draco. This won’t take long.”

He did as he was told, and Snape drew his own wand and pointed it at him.

“ _Scutum_ ”, he said loudly and precisely. A white spark flew out of the tip of his wand. His face became concentrated and it looked like this was a spell that had to be maintained.

“Now, take your wand and try any spell.”

Malfoy took his wand and pointed it at the seat behind Snape. Nothing happened.

“What the hell?”, he said. He sounded shaken.

Snape still pointed his wand at Malfoy. “Now, give me your wand.”

There was a flicker of mistrust in his eyes. Cautiously, he handed over his wand.

Snape continued to hold his own wand and waved his left hand with the other.

“Imperius”, he said.

Malfoy scowled. “Hey,” he shouted. “I thought we were on the same team.”

Then his mouth fell open, when he understood.

Snape dropped his own wand and massaged his right hand, as if the spell had been taxing. He returned the wand.

“Nothing in, nothing out,” he explained.

“Not even an unforgivable. Does it block the killing spell?”, Malfoy asked.

“I don’t know. And I didn’t want to risk killing the only person who might be an ally. Unlike yours, my killing curses actually do kill.”

Malfoy laughed uneasily.

“I haven’t worked out how to tie the spell off, yet. You have to hold it, and that is very exhausting.”

“So, if we do not manage to kill the Dark Lord, we just hold him behind a shield that renders him unable to do magic. It wouldn’t work without coming up with the right wand movement to tie it off.”

“That is the idea.”

“Or we could try to find the potion that has the same or a similar effect.”

“Exactly. That is there you come in. I am observed by too many people and I don’t have the time.”

Malfoy grinned. “I prefer this task to the one I had last year.”

There was something like affection in Snape’s eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You should go back to your classmates, Draco,” he told him.

Malfoy nodded and stood up.

Snape’s face had become hard again. “Make no mistake, Draco. If it comes down to it, you or the mission, I will not hesitate to kill you. But apart from that, I will try to keep you alive and I will try to ensure that you will not have to kill. Dumbledore did not want you to become a killer after all. I make no promises though.”

“I did not expect you to, Professor. In these times promises are not easily kept.” Malfoy answered. He shortly tapped on his family ring with his thumb and index finger, and a house elf appeared. Snape winced in surprise and almost shouted at the creature. The elf looked in panic at him.

“Prudy,” Malfoy told the elf. “You know Severus Snape. As unlikely as it may sound, you can trust him.”

He put his wand at his temple and drew out a thin greyish-white memory. The elf collected it in a vial it produced out of what looked like thin air.

Draco dismissed the elf with a wave of his hand and opened the door of the compartment.

“See you at school, professor.”

***

Excerpt from the protocol of the testimony of Prudy, the house elf (Malfoy trial)

[Witness] Master Draco summoned me with his ring. He told me that Severus Snape could be trusted and put another memory into the vial.


	16. Shopping with the Granger children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville takes Colin, Lizzie and Meg to town. This should be just a normal day with the Granger children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have very clear pictures of all the children in my head. I can only hope that others like them as much as I do. Neville certainly likes them.  
> In case you didn't realise: I love Neville very much....

When Neville arrived to pick up the children, Hermione offered him tea first. Hermione was careful about not betraying clients’ confidence, but Neville was sure, that the client she was talking about, who had almost sabotaged, three months of work was Terry Boots. He wondered if Hermione could guess who he talked about. He only ever talked about pupils, never letting their names slip. He had decided to keep this habit from his auror years. Yet, when he talked about a Hufflepuff who had managed to be bitten by mandrake roots in her neck and had been unable to perform any magic for days, Lizzie began to giggle. She had been there and knew who it was.

Hermione checked her phone before they finally left, but there was no message from Draco yet. The children bustled around him and begged him to take them to a bookshop.

Colin wanted a muggle bookshop, because of a muggle author called Droll Queen, if Neville understood correctly. Having left the wards of the house, they portkeyed into the middle of a London park and went to the next bookshop.

Colin was his usual holiday self, which meant that he was talking about all the interesting stuff he had read almost constantly. That was how Neville had known his wife’s godson for years, until he had encountered quiet Colin in school. Lizzie and Meg took each other by the hand and tagged along, happy in each other’s company. They were the closest to each other in age after all, just a little more than a year apart.

“I got the ‘Lord of the Rings’ from mum and dad, and it is fantastic. It really gives you a whole new outlook on elves.”

“How?”

“The elves are magical beings, but they are majestic and wise, and they do really cool stuff against the Dark magic, or what could count as Dark magic in Middle Earth.”

Middle Earth? Neville felt a bit lost and made a non-verbal generally approving sound.

“I looked it up, and there are so many muggle books where elves are so different from our house elves. Do you have any idea why muggles would have these ideas?”

Neville shook his head. “Muggles do have some strange ideas about magic.”

Colin nodded. “Yes, but some of their ideas are very close to the truth. I mean, Muggles know about wands and spells and so on. Why would their ideas about elves be so weirdly off?”

“Shouldn’t you ask your mum? Hermione is the expert on house elves.”

“Mum is an expert on house elves rights, which is not the same as an expert on house elves mythology,” Meg chimed in.

Neville smiled. Leave it to Meg, his goddaughter, to be meticulous about wording.

They spent about two hours in the bookshop. Neville took the opportunity to study some books on Muggle herblore and found a book he liked. He bought the book with one of the Muggle plastic cards that were connected to his Muggle account that Hermione had helped him set up.

Lizzie and Meg had wandered off to a shelf with riddle books, while Colin was in the part of the bookshop where it read “Fantasy and Science Fiction”. He was looking at sketch books. When he saw Neville, he reluctantly returned one of the books back to the shelf.

Neville pulled the book out again. “So, these are Droll Queen’s elves?”, he asked looking at the pictures in the sketch book that were in between the blank pages, probably to give an idea about what to draw.

Colin nodded. “Tolkien, Uncle Neville. The name is Tolkien. I want to draw something for Prudy and I wanted some ideas. I am sure she’ll like that.”

Neville smiled and shook his head, just a tiny bit. Sometimes the way Draco and Hermione’s children were a mix of their parents was too funny. Colin liked to draw, **and** he liked to correct people.

“I’ll buy you that sketch book,” he said.

Colin flushed. “I didn’t want to….”

Neville patted him on the shoulder. “I can buy something for my wife’s godson any time I want.”

When they left the bookshop to get lunch, Neville had paid for his own book, two riddle books for the girls and Colin’s sketch book. And it was much cheaper than his excursions to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes with Harry’s children.

They sat down in a Muggle restaurant and Neville conjured his patronus under the table. He sent it to Hermione to ask if it was time to go to Ollivander’s yet, but Hermione had not heard from Draco. Neville wondered if he should perhaps buy one of these Muggle portable tellyphones, just so he could contact Draco. Sending a patronus after Draco was close to useless, because nine out of ten times the patronus wouldn’t find him, and he couldn’t send one back anyway.

They walked around for a bit, although the sky was grey and the air humid. When it became dark, they went to a café on Diagon Alley and played card games. Still no word from Draco and Hermione’s patronus sounded a bit worried, when Neville asked her again. A portly man in his sixties frowned at them. Neville thought he recognized Rowan Greengrass, the man who had been humiliated very publicly, when his own daughter had sued him with Hermione’s help.

Pansy joined them after work and was quickly persuaded to join in the games. She was laughing, teasing the girls, ruffling Colin’s hair, but Neville knew something was off. While the children were preoccupied, Pansy showed him this afternoon’s special edition of the Prophet under the table and Neville supressed a groan.

She bent to his ear. “There is more, I’ll tell you later.”

Finally, just when the children had started to exchange worried looks more and more often, Hermione’s patronus arrived, and Pansy and Colin went off to Ollivander’s. Maybe it would be just an uneventful day with the Granger children after all.

***

Lizzie and Meg were eating soup, and solved riddles in an alarming speed that made Neville fear that they would have finished the riddle books before the day was over, when the door opened and the Zabini family entered. Luna hugged them all and Lizzie and Meg greeted the children with enthusiasm. Rachel was Colin’s year, but Pandora, called Penny, was Meg’s age. Lizzie and Meg looked with wide eyes at the Weasleys Wizard Wheezes bags, that Rachel and Penny had brought.

Luna and Blaise sat down and joined them, ordering food and drink. Luna told Neville about her newest project which was a revised edition of Newt Scamander’s “Fantastic Beasts”.

“When Penny enters Hogwarts this summer, we’ll make a thorough survey in South America. We went to India over the Christmas holidays,” Luna told them.

She frowned. “The occamy population has dwindled since Scamander’s time and Scamander was already worried about them. I suspect fully grown specimens have been smuggled away.”

Neville saw Blaise smiling affectionally and a bit indulgently at his wife.

Luna slowly stirred her coffee. “I have to talk to Hermione about that. I don’t think that the certificate for responsible use of magical creatures helps in the case of the occamies. And I have to talk to Harry if he can look into the smuggling.”

“You’d best not do that at the same time, though,” Blaise remarked.

Luna focused on her husband’s face and patted his hand “I do remember that, dear.”

She shook her head. “It’s such a nuisance, though.”

“Well, I couldn’t agree more,” Neville remarked. Sometimes he still wondered how he had ended being torn between Harry and Ron on one side and Hermione on the other.

“Did you see the special edition of the prophet?”, Blaise asked.

Neville nodded tersely.

“I think Ron should just marry a Slytherin. I mean, that worked out for us”, Luna said.

“You’re welcome to suggest this to Ron, the next time we see him,” Blaise said.

“Don’t forget to mention that you know of a Gryffindor- Slytherin marriage that has miraculously worked for some time by now,” Neville hardly knew what had come over him. He wasn’t that sarcastic usually.

Luna blinked at him. “I don’t think Ron would like that example, although it is a good example generally speaking -,” she said with a serious face.

It was as if their talk had conjured him. The door of the café opened, and Ron and George Weasley entered, tailed by James, Richard and Lily, bags of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes in their hands.

It was the first time, Neville wished that the Potter children would not great him quite that enthusiastically. The Granger girls looked up from their books, but Rachel and Penny waved happily to George and Ron.

“Hi Luna, hi Blaise, girls!”, Ron said, his gaze stopping at Meg and Lizzie, a puzzled look on his face. Lizzie’s smile froze in her face and Meg suddenly clutched Neville’s hand. Neville wished Ginny or Pansy were here. He had become quite adept at keeping the children apart at school, but here he was not a teacher.

Ron smiled his easy smile, the smile of the international Quidditch star. “Are you friends of Rachel and Penny?”

“Yes,” Lizzie squeaked in a high voice, that did not sound like her at all.

Neville tried to gesture to George, but George seemed oblivious. It probably didn’t help that Lizzie and Meg did not resemble their parents as strikingly as Rina and Colin. Lizzie with her greyish blond hair that only had a few waves and Meg with her straight dark hair that was cut Pixie style. Ron would not make the connection and Neville doubted he had ever seen them.

James and Richard were fidgeting with their feet, while little Lily had joined Penny without ado. Blaise, that blasted Slytherin, leaned back in his chair as if he was looking forward to an entertaining exchange. To give him his due, Blaise did not know yet, that Draco and Pansy probably were on their way here.

“These are Lizzie and Meg,” Luna explained.

“Hi,” Ron said.

“Good evening, Mr Weasley,” Lizzie said, her voice not quite as squeaky as before.

“Oh, you know me!”

“You’re the famous keeper,” Meg stated in a flat voice.

Ron was flattered, but not surprised. Neville had been present multiple times when Ron was recognized, and the keeper had become quite good at pretending surprise. Almost twenty years of Quidditch fame on the top of the sport had made him sure about his fame in a disarming way. If Ron had looked at his son and his nephew, he might have realised, though, that something was off.

“What gave me away?” he asked, the easy smile still in place.

“Richard talks about you.” Lizzie pointed at Ron’s son. “He’s a keeper as well.”

Luna chose this moment to intervene. “I am surprised that you are in such a good humour, Ron,” she said. “I see barely any wrackspurts around you, despite what we read in the prophet.”

Ron gave a short laugh. “Let me just say, that I’ve known from the start, that I made a mistake. Remind me to never travel to Las Vegas again.”

Neville stood. “Lizzie, Meg,” he smiled at them. “We’ll best be off. Take your coats, I’ll pay, and we’ll leave.”

His eyes met Blaise’s. He raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve got it, Neville. Off with you.”

Neville exhaled slowly.

Lizzie and Meg did as they were told and collected their things.

“We just swap chairs, then,” George said and let himself fall into the chair Neville had vacated.

“Do you want an autograph?” Ron asked.

The girls looked at him with wide eyes. Blaise choked on his tea and coughed violently.

Lizzie shook her head.

“No, thank you, Mr Weasley,” she said with a strained voice. “Our parents taught us not to take presents from strangers.”

“But you know me.”

“We know **about** you,” Meg clarified.

“Aren’t you a smart one?” Ron remarked. The easy smile was replaced by a frown.

He turned to Neville. “See you around, Neville. I’ll be staying with Harry for a while.”

Neville was about to usher the children out, when the door opened again.

“…. He threw that blasted special edition of the Prophet in my face, and it went downhill from there.”

Draco was talking over his shoulder to Pansy, as of yet oblivious to the guests in the café.

Neville was tempted to groan in anticipation of a disaster. Could Draco not have dawdled at Ollivander’s for five more minutes?


	17. What do we deserve?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron meets Draco and this leads to heated words....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a chapter from Ron's perspective. I do hope, that I got him right.  
> I've already said, that I do not want to bash him and Ron has his reasons, some of them will become clearer, and to be honest, Draco is not the most mature here either....  
> I've read many fics where Ron and Draco get along and I love them, but I must admit that to me it never really rings true.

He would recognize that voice everywhere. Even if he only saw him very occasionally, the intervals were never long enough for Ron’s taste. That voice, that made you practically hear the sneer – that despicable posh accent. Why was Malfoy here? Hadn’t his week been bad enough?

His hair was not as white as it had been when they both had been boys at Hogwarts, but still blond. But you never saw grey hair with blondes, and he had no intention of getting close enough to check if Malfoy had grey in his hair.

“Look, who’s come. A ferret,” Ron could not help himself.

“The Weasel King,” Malfoy said. It sounded as if he meant something like ‘Dirty peasant.’ “You made the headlines of the Prophet again, I was given to understand.”

Ron scowled.

The ferret smirked. “You should think about giving your next spouse probation time longer than five years on average.”

Ron shrugged. “I guess that’s better than making them stay with Amortentia.”

“Ron,” he heard Neville plead, but he chose to ignore him.

Malfoy’s eyes were cold. “It is all part of my devious plan to undermine wizarding society. Granger’s brain is so addled by years of Amortentia, that she barely manages anything at all. Imagine what she could do, if she had all her brains.”

Ron bared his teeth. “Imagine, she could be minister of magic by now, if she hadn’t sided with a death eater.”

Malfoy’s mouth clapped shut. Ron could see that his jaw muscles worked.

“At least, this scum is dying out. I heard your father bit the dust last Autumn. Did you give him a funeral cortege? Must have been a short one.”

It seemed like he couldn’t stop himself. Ron had been taut since Christmas. A tiny part of him knew, that he should really rein himself in, but seeing Malfoy fuming spurred him on.

“Or did you not attend, and it was just your mother?”

Malfoy rounded on him and his left hand shot out to grab him and he buried his fist in Ron’s shirt. His face was flushed with anger, his teeth were visible, and his jaw jutted out. “You leave my mother out of this.”

Ron saw with satisfaction that the sleeves of Malfoy’s coat were threadbare. He smiled. “Make me.”

The other man was taller, but Ron had confidence in his own fitness. Malfoy wouldn’t work out much in his business.

Malfoy took a deep breath and loosened his grip on Ron’s shirt. He sucked in his lips and kneaded them with his teeth.

Ron pushed up the sleeve of his opponent’s coat, until he saw what he knew was there, the Dark Mark.

The collective gasp in the café gave him a short-lived bout of satisfaction. Seeing it also made his anger boil up again. His anger at the Death Eaters, his anger that Malfoy was walking and alive, when Fred was dead, that Hermione had chosen him.

“Why is it still there, Malfoy, hmm?”, he hissed. “It has faded over the decades for everyone. I’ve seen some that are barely visible. While yours is as black and dark as the day you voluntarily decided to take it.”

“Clearly, today is not the day you are in possession of the single braincell of the Weasel family.” Malfoy let go of Ron’s shirt and shoved his sleeve over his arm again. “Nothing in, nothing out, Weasel. That is the way of a _scutum_. The magic of the Mark cannot fade out.”

“I see you did not forget to say your morning prayer today, Malfoy. ‘ _Do not let me be lost for a flimsy explanation today_ ’,” Ron imitated Malfoy’s accent. “Another explanation could be that you do not regret anything.”

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and gave him a false smile. “Regarding you, the only thing I regret is inventing that blasted ‘Weasley is our king’ song.”

“So, you admit that the repentant death eater show is just an act? I knew that anyway.” Ron wished so hard he could wipe that smile from Malfoy’s face.

“Pardon me, for not grovelling before the man who stole two and a half years of my life.”

How did he dare bring that up! Ron shivered with anger. He was still claiming that he had been framed with that cauldron. “You should be thankful you have a life. Not that you deserve it. You should be dead or in Azkaban.”

Malfoy did not answer, but his face was dark with the blood that had rushed to his cheeks.

Parkinson laid a hand on his arm. “Draco, let’s just leave.”

Ron flashed his teeth at her. “Leaving seems a good idea.”

Malfoy brushed imaginary dust flecks from his coat. “Children fetch your stuff. We’re leaving.”

He looked up again and his grey eyes met Ron’s.

“People getting what they deserve is such a strange concept, Weasel. What does this even mean? Everybody probably would agree that we both deserve everything we got. You got fame as a hero and as a keeper, more money than you can possibly spend … popularity. I lost my magic and my family’s fortune.”

There was a cruel glint in his eyes, and he smiled. “Let me share a secret with you, Weasel. Something I learned decades ago. Neither fame, nor popularity nor money will ever make you a happy man. Am I right? Are you a happy man?”

That cut so close, that Ron reacted without thinking. His fist connected with Malfoy’s face, and the insufferable ferret went down.

Parkinson had drawn her wand. “Stop it, right now,” she shouted.

Malfoy grunted. Rina, the daughter with her white-blond curls, who had always looked so much like her father, and what must have been the eldest son were at his side. He waved their hands away and picked himself up. Ron saw with satisfaction that he was bleeding from a cut lip.

“Bloody hell,” he said, when he looked down at his hands that were red, where he had wiped his face.

The café had become very silent. Ron could see that their fight had drawn everybody’s attention.

Parkinson stood alert, her wand pointed at Ron, her eyes flashing.

“Are you going to pull the auror card on me, Pansy?” Ron asked. “Over one punch?”

“I am pulling the auror card,” she hissed. “You should be ashamed, both of you to make such a scene in front of the children.”

Ron had forgotten about them. He saw that the little girls were upset and averted his eyes. His son and his nephew stared wide-eyed. His gaze met a young woman who edged closer. She drew one of these muggle devices out of her bag, and before he could protest, he was blinded by a flash of light. The woman smiled.

What a nuisance. He would make the headlines again tomorrow.

Ron tried to get to the woman and almost ran into the silver otter that appeared out of nowhere; a sight that hurt more than Ron expected. The patronus carried a red letter, that looked like a howler and it headed not for any of them, but for the portly man in the back of the café.

The otter shredded the howler to pieces just above the head of the man, so that it looked like he was under his own personal cloud that snowed red flakes. Hermione’s voice was very clear. “Mr Greengrass, this is my last warning. My personal life isn’t any of your business and if you send even one more howler, I will sue you from here to the Antarctic for harassment. I suggest you get a life.”

Malfoy, who was holding an ice package to his face that someone must have conjured up for him, laughed loudly.

“My wife is just that bitch.” It did not sound like he wanted to insult her.


	18. Room of Requirement (November 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco works on the scutum spell and the corresponding potion. Generally, seventh year sucks, even at the times he doesn't butt heads with Gryffindors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still only slightly canon bent.  
> I wanted to write a bit about how seventh year was for the people who were at Hogwarts and I wanted to explore a bit how the relationship of Draco and Neville develops.  
> Thank you to all the people who read this and give kudos! I am especially happy if you comment, so please don't be shy about it. I appreciate it very much!

**Draco Malfoy’s memories (as retrieved on August 8, 2020)**

The Room of Requirement had everything a good potions lab needed. In sixth year, Draco had dreaded the room as well as his task, but now in seventh year, the room had become a sanctuary, a place where he could breathe. His grades had plummeted even further than in sixth year, but without Granger, Draco did not really care. Slytherin had so many points that there was no question that they would make the house cup this year, but Draco had lost all interest in bragging. It didn’t feel right anyway- Everyone knew that Slytherin got points for the most ridiculous of reasons. Even Crabbe and Goyle had earned house points, just for coming to class.

Outside the room of requirement Draco tried to keep his head down. He skipped Defence against the Dark Arts as often as he dared. He walked a fine line there. You never knew with the Carrows. Sometimes, Amycus would just not realise that Draco was absent. Especially when Neville Longbottom had one of his bouts of Gryffindor bravery or rather madness. When the Carrows picked on Longbottom, it was easy to leave after a small disillusionment charm. But sometimes the Carrows would single him out and order him to practice his _crucios_. They rarely failed to comment on his lack of skill with the curse. Draco wished his schoolmates had more Slytherin characteristics. If he were at the receiving end of his own wand, he would act as if the curse lasted longer than it did. He had to admit to himself that it was probably not fair to expect children to act, though. Children that were not safe at their school. He did not dare to give them a hint though. He trusted nobody.

Sometimes, the Carrows would just laugh at him, but sometimes he would be punished for his lack of enthusiasm. He hated their random cruelty with a passion. Sometimes, they would order others to punish him. Once they had picked Pansy for that task. She had clearly meant to object, but Draco had mouthed ‘just get it over with’ to her. He had dragged his show of pain out as long as he dared, and the Carrows were satisfied and awarded Pansy with house points. When she was in tears later, Draco had risked telling her he had overdone it. From that moment onward, they tried to cover each other’s backs at least in that regard.

One day in November, every possible twist of fate had been against Draco. When he had tried to vanish in a rarely used corridor, Amycus Carrow had spotted him and practically dragged him to ‘lessons’. Draco had performed his subpar crucio on a little Ravenclaw girl that looked as if she was only half his size. And then Carrow had ordered Longbottom to punish Draco. Of course, the Gryffindor had refused, just like he had refused every time.

Draco had shouted at him. “You stupid Gryffindor oaf, just do it. You hate me anyway.”

Longbottom shook his head. “I will not cross that line. That curse should not be used on anyone.” And then Carrow had punished them both. For the first time in his life, Draco had felt a sliver of understanding for Gryffindor bravery. Longbottom’s every act of defiance showed that the Carrows did not control him. That it was not a foregone conclusion that the pupils had to do as they were ordered. Longbottom put them all to shame and Draco admired him and resented him at the same time. When they lay next to each other on the floor, both panting with pain, he had wanted to ask him if it was worth it. That now two boys were hurt instead of one. He wanted to ask him if he had no idea about simple math. But the words would not leave his mouth and he bit his lip hard.

When he had withdrawn to the Room of Requirement later, he had worked doggedly until late in the night. While the cauldron simmered, he had practiced the _scutum_ spell. He had summoned Prudy to practice and he could hold it for five minutes straight. Even house elf magic could not pass the scutum. He tried several flicks to tie the _scutum_ off but it just would not work. When the cauldron had simmered for two hours, the potion had acquired a silvery colour that to Draco looked promisingly like the silver white spark of the _scutum_ but, when he applied the potion to Prudy, nothing happened. Prudy could do magic and when Draco hexed it with a tickling spell, the elf obviously felt it. He almost cried in triumph though, when he tried to magically clean the cauldron and the spell would not work. If the potion worked on an object, it might be adjusted to work on humans, or any being.

This in turn gave him the idea to have a go at casting the _scutum_ on objects. He used a bag and ordered Prudy to magically remove the chess piece he had put in there. He was tired and excited at the same time and he only discovered the correct angle to tie off the _scutum_ by accident. The wrist flick did not work on Prudy though. It looked like the _scutum_ on objects was the only one that could be tied. That might be the angle that would allow him to perfect the potion.

He was almost too excited. He put his findings in the notebook he kept, drawing a quick sketch of the correct wrist flick. He had to remind himself to be meticulous in his notes, just in case shrouding his memories let him forget something important. All his labour would be for naught, if important details were lost.

It was well past midnight when he searched for Severus to tell him of his progress. He took two stairs at once, when he ran to the office, knocked shortly and entered, quite confident that the headmaster would be awake. He almost ran into the blond Ravenclaw that had been in Dumblodore’s army. The Weaselette was also there, and Longbottom.

Wands were out in a wink, as if it was a habit they could not break, and they traded hexes. Weaselette and Lovegood shot an _expelliarmus_ against him, but Draco held on to his wand in determination. Just the thought that someone would get hold of his wand had cold sweat run down his back. It was either his constant training, sheer luck or just the element of surprise, when he did not lose his wand to the double hex, that allowed him to stand his own. Doing most of his spells unspoken gave him a slight edge. The noise and shouting of the others had alerted the headmaster. When Severus Snape entered, the wands of the three quickly fell into his hands.

It turned out that the three members of Dumbledore’s army had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor. Weaselette told the headmaster very loudly that it belonged to Harry Potter; that Dumbledore had bequeathed it to Harry in his will. Draco shook his head at the impertinence. Even if Potter was the Chosen one, it really exceeded simple favouritism to think that something like the sword of Gryffindor could be bequeathed.

Severus Snape gave the three students a stern lecture and sent them of for detention.

“You want us to help Professor Hagrid,” Longbottom asked. “For a week. Starting now, in the middle of the night?”

“I think you heard me the first time, Longbottom,” the headmaster answered. “And don’t think about skipping this detention. I will inform the teachers that you are excused from class for a week.”

They left, while Weaselette cursed under her breath. Draco was sure he heard ‘ferret’, ‘still thinks he is inquisitorial squad’, ‘git’ and ‘bloody Malfoy’. She had no reason to curse. A week with Hagrid was no detention at all; not for them anyway. It was a week without the Carrows. It was in the forbidden forest and with that half-wit monster-lover, but Draco would have swapped with them any time.

Severus Snape looked around the office. The former headmasters had been awoken by the ruckus. Draco felt uncomfortable when the eyes of Dumbledore’s portrait met his.

“Don’t you have other things to do than get into duels with bloody Gryffindors?” Snape asked.

“I chanced upon them,” Draco said. “I did not come here to fight. I wanted to show you something.”

He fidgeted. He was not sure about the portraits.

“Show me then,” the headmaster said.

Draco showed him the wrist flick that could tie off the _scutum_.

“It does not work with living beings,” he told him. “I tried.”

“Nevertheless, very interesting,” Severus Snape said. “And promising.”

“The other project is in about the same phase,” Draco said. “It works on objects.”

“Well, well, that is good.”

Draco wanted to leave the scrutinizing gaze of the former headmaster Dumbledore. “I’ll keep you tuned. I just wanted to share this progress.”

He made to leave. At the door, he turned. “Did Dumbledore really bequeath the sword of Gryffindor to Potter?”

The headmaster nodded.

Draco shook his head. “Any idea about the reason?”

“Several.”

“So, it’s not as nutty as it seems?”

Severus Snape laughed. “No, but I think it is good that the sword is still under my control.”

“The day was not entirely useless, then?”

“No, Draco,” the headmaster said, but his smile held a trace of sadness. “You’ve done well.”

***

**(Severus Snape’s memories, retrieved September 2002)**

“Any idea, where they are?”, Snape asked after Malfoy had left.

Phineas Nigellus’ portrait shook his head.

“Severus,” Dumbledore’s portrait asked. “What is this project young Malfoy talks about?”

“My plan B, in case your very elaborate scheme evaporates.”

“Your plan B?”

“Yes, Albus, you don’t put all your eggs in one basket and neither do I.”

“Young Malfoy is an odd choice.”

“He is a half a Black,” Phineas Nigellus chimed in.

“Albus, I am not deviating from my task, but allow me to have a flicker of hope that I might save one more young man along the way. A young man I actually like, I might add.”

Dumbledore in his portrait laughed. “What an interesting development. Young Malfoy is on Harry’s side.”

Snape snorted. “I wouldn’t put it that way. He decided to side with me, because he knows that there won’t be safety for him, or the people he loves under the Dark Lord.”

“Hmm. I might even have an idea how that change of heart came about.”

Snape scowled at the former headmaster. “Sometimes you are insufferable. How would you even know that!”

“A young lady who has no chance under this new regime asked me some questions before I died. Some questions that let me guess that she had gained considerable insight into Draco’s mind.”

The man in the portrait looked at Snape with sympathy. “It almost made me think, that history….”

“Don’t say that,” Snape snapped. “Don’t you say that. I hope that history won’t repeat itself. That would only lead to misery and loneliness for Draco.”


	19. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grangers try to settle in the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of an in-between chapter. Not much plot movement, but hopefully a taste of how the family works.

Getting Robert into bed without Draco was a real struggle, but after all the other children had helped and each had told a story or sung a song for Robert, he was finally willing to close his eyes. Hermione closed the bedroom door behind her and sighed.

Now that Robert was tucked in, Hermione had time to look after the older children. Rina and Colin had prepared a small dinner, and Hermione invited Neville to participate. A day of dealing with howlers and Terry Boot’s mess as well as looking after Robert had exhausted Hermione and she realised that she was about to get snappish. She was thankful that her older children were such a great help.

Draco had texted that it would take a ‘while’. At least Pansy was with him. Neville gave her a short version of what had happened. She could have slapped herself.

“I should have alerted Ginny,” she said. “If I had just told her that Draco was in wizarding London, she probably would have prevented that.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that Ron had returned from the States.”

She let herself sink down. “It’s been almost twenty years, why can’t he just let it lie. Why is he still so obsessed?”

She rubbed her eyes angrily. “Ron doesn’t really believe in this Amortentia rubbish, does he?”

The unhappy eyes of the children pressed at her heart.

“We all make our own versions of the truth,” Neville said. “He should know better than to believe that by now. For what it’s worth I do think he believed it at the time, Draco was under suspicion.” His cheeks became slightly redder. Hermione suspected that Neville had not been convinced of Draco’s innocence either, but he had never said so in her hearing.

Hermione nodded. “Back then I believed it was him who planted that cauldron in Draco’s flat. But today I think it was somebody else. It still makes Draco mad, and I can hardly blame him.” She grimaced. The time, they had been under close supervision must have been the worst time of her life.

She sighed. “At least Pansy separated them.”

“Did dad really make the song ‘Weasley is our king’”, Colin blurted out. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“That came up as well?”, Hermione groaned.

“I suppose if you twist the verses, it could be very…, “ Rina hesitated. “…. Different.”

“Weasley is our king, he always lets the quaffle in,” Hermione sang.

“It was mean,” she conceded.

“The Slytherins sang that, all of them,” Neville remembered. He barked a laugh. “It is a very catchy tune, after all. Your dad’s sins have a way to come back and haunt him in the strangest fashions.”

Hermione tried to hold her own laugh in. She did not want to be petty. But the song had pressed all Ron’s buttons. It was a wonder that he had somehow managed to find his talent for keeping in that Quidditch game. It was probably sheer spite that had him got going in that game.

“That was rather dirty play,” Colin said, unhappily.

“To be quite honest, all the houses were and are not picky in their methods when it comes to Quidditch,” Neville said. “I remember, that the Slytherin captain was stuck into a broom closet once.”

Colin shook his head. “Just like Muggle football, I’ll never get why people are so crazy about a sport.”

“You have to show me how you returned that Howler to Greengrass,” Neville asked in a not so subtle try to change the topic of the conversation. “That was awesome.”

“Howlers have a magical signature, because they imitate the voice of the sender. I have a sample of voice signatures from the people most likely to bother me. Rowan Greengrass is certainly one of them.”

She smiled in remembrance. The Greengrass vs. Greengrass trial had been such a triumph and it had set a precedent for other cases. Pureblood fathers were more careful with dictating their daughters lives nowadays. This was something she had accomplished, and she was proud of it.

They talked charms, spells and hexes over dinner and by the end of dinner Hermione was calm enough to tell the children, that today’s events were an exception, that their father was fine, and that there was sadly enough no way to appease some people. Colin and the smaller girls went to their bedrooms, the books Neville had bought them, tugged under their arms, apparently put at ease. Neville had left them then.

Rina had bottled up a lot of anger though, and as soon as Neville had gone, flung herself in her mother’s arms. Rina was usually not a very touchy person, and her outburst worried Hermione. What she told Hermione of Gringotts did sound like a very unpleasant experience. Hermione was not really surprised. She had known that it would be difficult after the first howler had arrived.

“I am sorry, Rina,” she told her daughter. “Still, it might be for the best, if you see that life is not fair.”

“Well, that is what dad said,” Rina scowled. “Did you agree on that beforehand? Because life shouldn’t be **that** unfair.”

“Oh, Rina,” Hermione said.

“And I didn’t even see all. Dad had to go through all this, and then this annoying weasel had the nerve to tell dad, that he is still a death eater.”

There were tears in her daughter’s eyes. “I so wanted to hex him, but aunt Pansy gave me that look… so I didn’t.”

“That was very mature,” Hermione praised her.

“And all because the Pott-Weasel disaster twins broke Colin’s wand, when they fought,” Rina exclaimed, and then bit her lip and flushed, and then hung her head. “Colin did not want you and dad to know that. I shouldn’t have told you. And apparently they didn’t mean to break his wand.”

“I had a suspicion, anyway,” Hermione said. “The way Colin worded it, was so off.”

Rina took the tissue, Hermione handed her, and blew her nose.

“I wish we were all in Hufflepuff,” she said. “Lizzie does splendidly there.”

“I thought you did well in Slytherin,” Hermione exclaimed, alarmed. Unlike Colin, Rina had adapted to her house.

“I do, but Slytherins always tell me how much you overdo it with the rights of house elves, goblins and squibs.”

Hermione huffed. “I am certainly not sorry, that all house elves have contracts now.”

“Mum, I didn’t say I agree with them.”

They were interrupted by the sound of turning keys. Despite Draco’s reassuring texts, Hermione was relieved to see him. He looked a bit battered, but the Muggle doctor had obviously patched him up.

“You should see the other guy,” Draco said with a lopsided smile, lopsided because of the patch on his lips.

Hermione shook her head, a small laugh escaping her. “I have it from Neville, that the other guy has just a bruised ego, because Pansy intervened.”

“I know I should have curbed my bloody tongue.”

Hermione went to him and laid her hand on his cheek.

“Nothing broken. I’ll be o.k. in a week. I was lucky there was no need for stitching. The doctor glued my lip,” he assured her.

“You should have left the café, the moment you saw Ron.”

“Do you have to rub it in? My only excuse is that I had a rotten day.”

She smiled. “I won’t insist.” She kissed his cheek on the side that wasn’t patched. She moved to hug him as well, and realised he winced. Her eyes met his and she understood there was more. He shook his head just a tiny bit. It would have to wait for later.

“There was a reporter as well,” Rina said. “It will be all over the bloody prophet.”

Draco shrugged. “They’ll find something else in a few days. They always do. I’ve learnt to live with my evil reputation.”


	20. Pillow talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco discuss the events of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not sure if this chapter could count as fluff, but at least get some domestic Dramione.  
> And some plot as well.

Hermione put the two galleons that were left in the safe in their bedroom and turned to Draco.

She took refuge in their usual night routine, which was to tell each other about their day. “I didn’t have the best of days. Terry Boots absolutely botched his custody case. He took his son for an afternoon excursion to Muggle London, to the British Museum, when his ex explicitly forbade that. I have no idea how I can salvage this for him. And even if I do, he won’t be able to pay.”

Draco agreed. “I don’t know what is so difficult about the idea of joint custody and agreement on some general principles.”

“His ex shouldn’t insist on having zero muggle interaction.” Hermione scoffed. “She is a nightmare, stand offish, prejudiced, snobbish. You name it. She loves her son though. And Terry and she have signed an agreement.”

Hermione started to brush her hair. “Do you think Terry is a case of OPUP?”

Draco took the brush from her and started to carefully work his way through her tresses.

“Definitely,” he agreed. “You are too invested.”

“Terry is such a mess. He just wants to see his son and I feel for him, but why did he have to botch it? He wants to claim, that the British Museum has magic artefacts and that he just wanted to show them to his son.”

“Granger, represent Terry to the best of your abilities, continue to give him extension on his fees, but don’t try to pick up his mess for him.”

For a while, Hermione let herself be soothed by Draco’s patient brushing and the occasional sorting of her tresses with his hands. Years of practice meant that she need not fear sudden tugging or scalp pains.

“Robert missed you. I barely managed to get him to bed with the help of the other children.”

Draco hummed.

“Will you tell me what happened?”, she asked.

“Well, the bureaucrat in residence was more obnoxious than usual,” he sighed.

“Rina told me all about Percy Weasley. I knew something was wrong, when I hadn’t heard from you by midday.” She grimaced. “I had hoped you would just have to wait like the last times.”

When Draco did not answer, she turned and looked at him. “Malfoy,” she said. “tell me.”

“Weasley had never seen the new plastic notes in his life and decided to let Fawley check them.”

“Fawley?”, Hermione asked, shocked.

Draco nodded and gave her a half-grin, that held little joy. “At least Rina had gone outside by then.”

“What did he do?”

“Just bruises. The doc gave me some salve. Don’t worry.”

“I hate him. I hate him. Hypocrite, coward, bastard. This is illegal. I’ll sue him.”

Draco laughed.

“Why do you laugh?”

“Picturing your righteous anger helped me get through this. You know it is a SOPGEM situation though, Granger. You still have to pay your secretary with the fees from duty soliciting and we still have to buy school supplies.”

“We could always collect evidence and sue him after Robert will have passed his NEWTs.” Hermione suggested. “Or I fire my secretary? I can go back to managing my own calendar.”

Draco scoffed. “And barely be at home, no thanks.”

“Or maybe we could ask the indulgent godparents of our children to buy school equipment.”

“No,” he said, his face set.

“Why not?”

“You don’t want to accept money from your clients when you know they can’t afford your fees, Hermione. I don’t want to accept money. Period. It’s not in my genes.”

He took her hand and entwined her fingers with his.

“My father has not taught me many wisdoms, but I think he was right about his assessment that borrowing or loaning ruins friendships.”

Hermione pressed Draco’s hand. She tried to picture Pansy buying the children’s schoolbooks, Neville spending more than the occasional present. And Draco swallowing his pride. It would ruin his friendship.

“I reluctantly agree with your father, I think. Although I wonder if he really had friends.”

“He might have had some when he was a young man.”

“Shall I put the salve on your bruises?”, Hermione asked.

“That would be nice.”

“Lay down, then.”

The view of Draco’s chest made her angry all over again, but she tried to work in the salve carefully.

“So, after you had to deal with the pencil-pusher and a bloody hypocrite, you managed to run into Ron Weasley.”

“The embodiment of ‘Be careful what you wish for, you might get it’,” Draco said.

Hermione had to laugh despite herself. She punched Draco’s arm, very lightly and very playfully. “What are you then?”

“The embodiment of ‘undeservedly getting what I did not know I needed and wanted’”. He smiled at her, a warm smile that made her smile in return.

His face became thoughtful. “According to the Weasel I am the reason that you’re not minister of magic by now.”

“Did he say that?”

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Draco said, his eyes searching her face. “ **You** certainly did not get what you deserved.”

“I would be a terrible minister of magic.” Hermione exclaimed. “I would try to change everything at once, and I probably would have a revolution and riots on my hands.”

“You would be splendid, though. ‘All would love you and despair’”.

Hermione laughed, recognising the quote from ‘Lord of the Rings’. “Galadriel, eh? I bet she didn’t need someone to tame her hair.”

She placed her hand on Draco’s chest and began to circle her finger across it, touching the skin only lightly over the white fine lines of his sectumsempra scars that stood out.

“I worry so much about Colin,” she admitted. “He is so unpredictable. I fully expected him to love ‘Lord of the Rings’, but I thought he would lash on the whole ‘Hobbits find their courage’.”

“Instead he decided that his new interest should be that Elves are so different in Muggle literature compared to House elves.” Draco groaned.

Hermione nodded, unhappily. “He’s already asked if he may come home on the first free weekend. At least, Neville has an eye on him.”

“I know, but still…. If it’s not any better by the end of the school year, we could always put him into a Muggle school, and you could just home school him in magic.”

Hermione sighed. “We’ll see how it is in summer.”

She let herself fall at Draco’s side. Usually she would curl into his arms, but she did not want to hurt him and kept a bit of distance, just taking his hand.

“There is something else, isn’t there?”

The slight pause in Draco’s breathing told her that she was right.

“Rina and I met Astoria after Gringotts.” That in itself could hardly be what had him upset.

His voice became very soft. “Apparently, a recently widowed pureblood lady made a huge donation to Hogwarts and Astoria was entrusted with the transaction.”

Hermione took Draco’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Oh, love,” she said.

“School equipment for the less well off…. From all houses.”

“She is looking for loopholes in the C.O.C.”

She felt more than she saw that Draco nodded. “Now, that…” he hesiteated shortly “…her husband is dead, she probably tries to get rid of as many things and money as possible without triggering an already erratic curse. The more she manages to spend, the less vicious the curse becomes.”

His breathing became uneven. Hermione rose and propped herself on her elbow and studied her husband’s face.

“The money can’t be spent flimsily, she has to come up with valid reasons, that have no connection to the cut-out heir. The curse…. “, he stuttered. “… wants to hold it together for a worthy heir, only there is none, not in pureblood thinking anyway.”

“Shh,” Hermione laid a finger on his lips. “Do you feel the C.O.C.?”

Draco nodded. “Like tendrils brushing on my _scutum_. It might be just my imagination.”

Hermione doubted that. “Would it help if I try to guess further? You seem uncomfortable.”

“Be careful, there can’t be any doubt that this C.O.C. is particularly vicious, **and** erratic.”

Hermione had long suspected that the _scutum_ was the only thing that kept Draco alive. Draco seemed to agree. ‘Particularly vicious’ could mean a curse to the death. It would be in line with the Malfoy family tradition to have a particularly nasty variant in place.

Hermione frowned. “The conditions were set by an esteemed ancestor, I assume? The one who set up a stupid house elf pact to prevent non-pureblood marriages for heirs within the sacred 28? He certainly did not lack imagination.”

“I think it predates that, several generations is my guess.”

“There is no distant cousin? Twelfth times removed? Someone the curse can settle on as an heir?”

Draco barked a laugh. “For the last ten generations or so, there has only ever been one son, and very often no sisters. I think this particular C.O.C. was set up way before the one heir only policy. It makes no sense otherwise. Which means that our house elf lover was not the one to put it in place.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. “Are you telling me that there was only one heir on purpose?” Her voice sounded squeaky in her own ears.

“To keep the money together.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Hermione was appalled. “If every pureblood family of the 28 would do the same, then there wouldn’t be anyone left after a couple of generations.” She counted quickly in her head. “after six generations.”

“My dear Hermione, I thought we had established long ago, that logic is not the forte of pureblood thinking.”

Hermione had to laugh and thought about an afternoon at the lake in Hogwarts. Despite the grim subject they shared a smile.

“So, the curse strives to keep everything together for a worthy heir, but there is no heir because the family had a one-son-policy? And the one and only son has been cut out. By a curse that was set up prior to the one-son-policy.” And probably would be dead, if the curse had run its natural curse.

Very suddenly, Hermione felt great respect for Draco’s mother. She had always known that her mother-in-law was a formidable witch, a powerful _occlumens_ , but this was an uphill struggle of enormous dimensions. And she had to race against time.

“Well, this particular family certainly set up several strong incentives to prevent non pureblood marriages…. A Cut out curse, the house elf pact…. Which I think was meant to cushion the risks of the one-son policy by getting the other families to be invested in the survival of their line.”

“It is enough to give me an intensive headache.” Hermione sat up. “Since when do you know?”

“I’ve suspected ever since last November. I felt the C.O.C occasionally, before that. It always felt like malicious intent, but since then it has become more erratic, as if probing me.” So, Lucius’ death **had** shifted the curse.

He shrugged. “One more reason to be grateful to the talent of Severus Snape.”

“Is Colin in danger?” Colin was the eldest son after all.

“For what it’s worth. I do think you and the children are out of it. Speaking in pureblood traditions you are just my mistress and our children are….” He left the sentence unfinished.

“What? Our marriage was registered in the Ministry! And the house elf pact was triggered when our married was registered.”

Hermione stared at him, shocked.

“The whole purpose of that house elf pact and the danger of rogue elves was to bring any errant pureblood heir back into the fold. It was meant to ensure that it was in the interest of every family of the Sacred 28 to keep their male heirs in the line of blood purity. Any marriage registered with the ministry is serious enough to be threat, but if it was not done with a pureblood ritual it was not a valid marriage and could be annulled.”

“Your mistress”, Hermione sputtered. “your mistress! And the children are bastards? By-blows? Merlin!”

“The sacrifices you made for the house elves cause.” Draco grinned. “Living in concubinage for decades.”

Hermione scowled. “I am heavily tempted to punch you. Your mistress!”

He laughed. “Please continue, Granger, you look marvellous, I love it so much, when you’re angry.”

“Malfoy!”

“Your eyes sparkle,” he said. “And there is no need to punch me. Making me laugh already hurts enough.”

“Oh Draco,” she said. “You know that I don’t do punches nowadays.”

“Lucky me,” he grinned. “Anyway, apart from the fact, that I could not perform such a ritual, I doubt you would be keen on a solemn magical ritual that would have demanded obedience from you.”

“What? Obedience? What kind of outdated patriarchy mess is this ….”

“See, there is a reason I never mentioned this to you.” His face became serious. “And you know that this is not how I see our marriage.”

“If it keeps Colin safe, so be it then.” Hermione shook her head. “I am happy to be your disobeying mistress.”

She let herself fall on her pillow, but bent her face, so she could still see Draco’s face.

“He forbade her to see you,” she whispered. “And now she has to keep the curse in check.”

She thought she could see Draco’s eyes glistening, his playfulness having left him entirely. "I don't really care about being disinherited. But I'll never forgive him for that." 


	21. Forest of Dean (December 26, 1997)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slytherin locket is destroyed....  
> And we see Hermione's and Draco's reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another flash back chapter!

The moon painted pattern on the cover of the bed in the hospital wing, when Hermione visited him and sneaked at his side. A part of her knew that she was in a dream, that she had relived this particular scene many times in her dreams, so many times, that she barely knew if her talk with Draco and the kiss they shared was just a fabric of her own imagination.

Yet, somehow her dream felt more real than her visit in the hospital wing had felt when it had happened. As it happens in dreams, her talk with the injured boy in the hospital bed was different from the talk she remembered. They did not talk about Harry’s attack or Draco’s mark. Instead Hermione told him how lonely she felt, how the hunt for Horcruxes was a failure so far, how they had stupidly visited Godric’s Hollow, how they had barely escaped the snake Nagini and You-know-who. Even in her dreams, Hermione knew better than to utter his name. In her dream, her tears fell freely on Draco’s hand that lay on the cover. He raised his hand and softly wiped her tears away, and for a moment Hermione felt the anticipation she always felt in that particular dream. He bent down to kiss her. But this time, sweet oblivion was not for her.

The snake that was inked into his forearm within the Dark Mark suddenly came alive and hissed. It looked like it was writhing, freeing itself from the binds of Draco Malfoy’s flesh. They both looked on in horror, when the snake grew, became huge and raised its head as if to strike and the hissing became almost unbearable in Hermione’s ear. She woke with cold sweat on her skin.

She jumped out of bed and stumbled out of the tent and froze in shock, when she realised that Harry was not at his post outside the tent.

She was in the middle of the Forest of Dean, Harry had vanished and taken her wand and all she had were the remnants of Harry’s wand.

Hermione tried to calm her erratically beating heart and refrained from shouting for Harry. Had he been so stupid as to leave the wards? What if someone had found him? She worked her way slowly to the boundaries of the wards they had set up, searching for Harry. She wondered if her dream was a bad omen, she wondered if it meant that she was in danger, that Harry had been taken.

“Your good luck wish did not carry us that far, Malfoy,” she whispered. They had set out on the hunt in August, just after Harry’s birthday and they still hadn’t destroyed one horcrux. For a moment she stopped in her tracks. What if her dream meant that Malfoy had died? Had Voldemort killed him in a fit of anger after Harry and her had escaped yet another time? It was certainly not beyond him to randomly kill one of his own followers in a fit of rage.

She ventured briefly out of the wards, but could not see Harry, and she did not dare leave the camp before daylight came and she had a chance to look for signs. It felt like hours until the first flicker of light came over the horizon, and when Harry returned with Ron in tow, Hermione had worked herself into a shrieking frenzy.

She was so relieved and angry at the same time, that she barely knew what she shouted at the boys. In her state she almost asked them if Draco was dead before she caught herself. She still hadn’t told either of the boys of her strange encounters with Draco Malfoy. She still hadn’t told them about her talk with Dumbledore. Any questions about him would come out of the blue for Harry and Ron.

It was only in the afternoon, that Hermione really understood what they had accomplished. They had the sword of Gryffindor and they had destroyed a horcrux. And someone was on their side, someone who had sent a patronus.

When she went so sleep again, the dream of her visit to the hospital wing came again, but this time, they were not interrupted by the hissing of a snake. Maybe, just maybe, her dream had been a reflexion of the horcrux dying and not a bad omen for her or for the boy who expected to die.

***

(Draco Malfoy’s memories, as retrieved August 8, 2020)

When Draco woke up, the sun was shining and for the first time in months, he did not have the feeling that it was only a bleak future that awaited him. The grass in the manor’s park glittered with hoarfrost and in his heart, there was the tiniest spark of hope, a hope that at some day in the future, the world might be rid of the Dark Lord. He could even see, that the park of the manor was beautiful, a sight that had recently been blighted for him. It was as if a small ray of sunshine shone through the clouds of his fear. He tried to hold on to the fleeting images of his dreams, although he suspected that he probably should not try. Fleeting dreams of Granger better remained just that, fleeting dreams.

He did not understand his sudden sliver of hope though. Christmas was just as bad as anticipated if not worse. The Dark Lord was in a bad mood. The death eaters tried to tiptoe around him, and Draco heard the tiniest of whispers that Potter had escaped a trap.

He looked out of the window again and saw Severus Snape approaching. It was difficult to judge from the distance, but his step was not only brisk and fast as always, but Draco thought he saw a spring in his steps.

When they met in the entrance hall, his face gave nothing away though. Draco could see that his godfather’s occlumency walls were as densely woven as a silk cloth. Thread upon thin thread, with no space in between. No legilimency dagger would cut through this. Severus just acknowledged him with a small nod, nothing more, on his way in, where the Dark Lord had summoned him. Draco did not follow, he avoided contact with the Dark Lord as often as he was able to.

It was only later that they had an opportunity to talk, when Draco accompanied his godfather to the gate of the manor where he could apparate back to Hogwarts. The hoarfrost was long gone, but even in Winter the sun made the park beautiful.

“I would like to return to Hogwarts sooner,” Draco said. “I’ve done some reading and I have an idea, I want to test. I think the ingredients for the potion have to be prepared without magic.”

His professor looked him straight in the eye. “You mustn’t appear too eager to leave, but that idea sounds worth pursuing. You can’t buy muggle cutting tools. I’ll bring something from my own home. Try to be inconspicuous about leaving though.”

“Do you think it would be a good idea to have some basic communication? Just in case, something comes up?”, Draco asked. “I really had this idea since the beginning of Christmas break, and I would have liked to ask you.”

“I would argue that the corresponding galleons have been overused.”

“I rather thought about an alert for emergencies, like I have with Prudy.”

Severus stopped for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Give me your ring.”

“Do you remove that often?” he asked.

Draco shook his head. “Not any longer. I want to be able to call Prudy, whenever necessary.”

His godfather took his wand and spoke a spell, silently of course.

“Remove it twice, and I’ll know you want to talk, remove it three times, and I’ll know you’re in dire straits. When the stone turns black, you’ll know there is no point in calling me.”

Draco acknowledged the possibility of Severus’ death with a small nod. He, himself, had after all expected to die multiple times already. He sometimes felt like he was living on borrowed time.

Severus waved his wand over the length of Draco’s body as if he wanted to look after his health.

“If the stone turns red, try to contact me. I hope it won’t ever be necessary though.”

And then for a tiny moment, Severus Snape’s face changed. He smiled.

“We’re one step closer to our goal, finally.”

“Really?” So, the strange feeling he had this morning hadn’t been a mistake.

Severus nodded, but did not tell more.

“Is Granger….?”, he asked.

Severus scowled at him. “She’s alive. Don’t dwell on that! Remember to occlude.”

Draco flushed. “I know, I know. I thought, I could ask you.”

Severus’ face softened. “Just be careful.”

“Yes, and I’ll put this away,” Draco said.

“That is probably for the best. I wish you were a better _occlumens_.”

“The memory storing is a good workaround. I put a _scutum_ on the memory vial. Nobody but me can access them now.”

Severus gave him a tiny nod, which could be interpreted as praise and disapparated.


	22. Preparing observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to make progress in the various cases that need the head auror's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some hints for the diverse mystery plots here (I hope). I am a bit torn. I don't want to be too obvious with my hints, but I also don't want for the solution to come out of the blue. So, if anyone wants to speculate, do that, although it is possible, that hints are not sufficient yet.  
> In this chapter we see some of the motivations of Percy.

Harry had arrived early in his office, even though school would start in a couple of days, and he usually tried to make the most of the children’s time at home. But Ron had been in such a sour mood, that he had fled. That he **had** to run into Malfoy of all people. Ginny had thought it such a good idea to send him to George with the children.

Pansy gritted her teeth, when Harry asked about what exactly had happened and murmured something about “men who behaved as they were still little boys in the playground.” She gave Harry the gist of it, though. That is what had not made it to the prophet. **“Are you a happy man?”** was the headline of today’s Prophet, together with a photo muggle style that showed Malfoy on the floor and a very red-faced Ron. All unmoving. Well there would have been no point of a wizarding photo with one of the main objects of this delightful gossip missing.

“I think they are even,” Pansy summed up. “Ron got in a pretty good punch, and Draco will have a taped face for a week, but Draco’s punchline was pretty on point.”

“He certainly didn’t lose his knack for vicious truths.” Harry remarked. Ron wasn’t a happy man, that was true enough. Harry wondered if Malfoy was, with his _scutum_ and all, or if he had just claimed that to rile up Ron.

They discussed the reports on the attacks on muggleborn children afterwards. They were still discussing, how the spells had been applied. The spells themselves had been rather harmless, spells like a perpetual hick-up spell, a giggling spell, and a somewhat nastier easy bruising spell, but Harry shared Pansy’s uneasiness. If spells could be applied without detectable wizarding activity, nothing said that they would limit themselves to relatively harmless spells the next time. And the spells had been very difficult to remove as well. They refined their working theory that the spells had been applied with a magically altered muggle device.

“Muggles call them drones,” Pansy told him. “They are not very big, and you direct them with a muggle smartphone. If you then magically disguise them as a bird, it would be quite easy to let them drop a cursed item on a child, that is curious about a seemingly trusting bird.”

So, Pansy had already gone to work and asked Draco Malfoy about Muggle technology. Probably when she had accompanied him to a Muggle doctor. She was a very efficient second after all.

“But we didn’t find any remnants of cursed items.”

“What if the spells were mixed with a potion, some lasting potion or durable potion?”

Harry frowned. “Spells do not mix well into potions. We still could search for vials or shards of vials of course.”

“My gut tells me, that this is serious. Imagine if someone applies a lasting _scutum_ on every muggleborn child.”

Harry shuddered. “It should be impossible.”

Pansy arched an eyebrow. “There is one case of a lasting _scutum_.”

“And Severus Snape was an exceptional wizard. We still cannot reproduce some of his spells. And we still do not know, how he managed to apply a permanent _scutum_ on a living person.” He grimaced. “After his own death, to top it.”

“As for the application…,” Pansy said.

Harry waved impatiently. “Yes, I know the house-elf did the application with whatever Snape had chosen as a carrier. The house elf was questioned thoroughly on that. She did not know what it was at that time, and I doubt she is more knowledgeable now.”

“What if they discovered or rather rediscovered the carrier? And that is why we had difficulties removing the spells.”

“That makes too much sense for my liking,” Harry admitted. “You do have a vivid imagination. I assume you don’t want to insinuate that Draco Malfoy is behind this. The attacks happened in Wiltshire after all.”

Pansy scoffed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. “You know he doesn’t remember. It is such a pity that Severus Snape’s memories on Draco never were recovered.”

Harry looked at his hands and studied his nails. “Even if they were, he might not have inserted this particular information,” he finally said.

“So, I guess, I’ll look if I find any residues of what might have been a carrier.”

Harry gladly left the field work to Pansy and tried to do some filing. In addition to the muggleborn problem, there had been several dementor sightings. Harry made a patrolling plan for the younger aurors. Dementors couldn’t be destroyed, only dispelled. Harry was determined to drive them off as far as possible. The decision to rid Azkaban of dementors had been the right one, Harry was sure, but without being fed emotions in a closed setting, dementors had become very uncooperative. Harry wished he knew how to get rid of them permanently.

In the afternoon, Luna visited him. The smuggling of wild occamies was not very high on Harry’s priority list, but he obliged Luna and promised her to have a look at it. He might have wondered if she wanted to make him reconnect with Hermione on a professional issue if it was anyone but Luna. From Luna he got yet another version of what had happened yesterday. Luna blamed it on an excessive invasion of wrackspurts that had entered the café at the exact same time as Malfoy.

“They must have lingered at the door,” she said. “Ron was surprisingly wrackspurt free before.”

Harry bit back a comment on wrackspurts possibly trailing Malfoy because of his scathing tongue that had not lost any of its edge over the years.

“Wrackspurt free?”, he asked instead.

“Considering, Lucretia just left him, I had expected many more wrackspurts, but I think he might be secretly relieved. Or not so secretly,” she mused.

“To be quite honest, Luna, we are all secretly relieved.” Of all of Ron’s wives she had certainly been the worst choice, a stunner lookwise, but her tongue could rival Malfoy’s. And on his better days Harry could admit that Malfoy at least was occasionally funny. The song he had written for Neville’s and Pansy’s wedding had been hilarious, dropping with sarcasm, but hilarious.

In the early evening, Harry was about to call it a day, when Percy’s patronus, a fox, arrived. Harry promised to drop in on his way home.

Percy’s wife Penelope opened the door, Harry smiled and told her that he just needed Percy for a second. Percy told him that he would show him something in the garden, which was a very thinly veiled excuse, but Penelope did not question it.

When they were in the garden, Percy produced a list and gave it to Harry. “I managed to plant some of the observation galleons on some of the families that are the usual suspects for money laundering, but the minster will still have to sign before you can activate the observation.”

Harry had a look at the list and almost dropped it, when he read the last two names.

He pointed at them. “You realise the last two are not prime suspects for money laundering?”

Percy grimaced. “I know, I know. Both happened to be in the bank yesterday, and I wanted to be thorough. I know that Astoria Greengrass has fallen out with her family and that her salary at Hogwarts is all she has. And my children say, she is a good teacher. But it could all have been a ruse.”

He scowled. “Someone saw her talking with **Malfoy** just before she came. **And** she deposited a substantial sum from the Malfoy vault into the school vault with verified signature by Narcissa Malfoy. A very substantial sum. It seemed too much of a coincidence.”

Harry scratched his chin. “Hmm,” he said.

It **would** be a neat circumvention of the cut-out curse. Or was he too trusting, just because he owed his life to Narcissa and she had been so cooperative over the years, always helpful with cursed items, questions on dark curses?

“I’ll look into it,” he said. “If it’s a real donation Flitwick will know about it.”

“I said, I wanted to be thorough,” Percy defended himself.

“So, Malfoy was at Gringotts?”, he asked. That would explain the wrackspurts, Harry thought. It must be hard for the man to mix with the common customers at Gringotts.

“It was inconspicuous enough,” Percy conceded. “He claimed his son needed a new wand, and it’s not as if he ever exchanges much, certainly not enough for laundering on a great scale.”

Percy looked somewhat contrite and Harry wondered about that. “I estimated what Ollivander would probably demand, and gave him a bit more. After I ensured that he would not suspect false play,” Percy continued.

Percy sighed. “I managed to get my hands on the muggle money he handed in and prepared that as well, so that it can be used for observation. It’s in Fawley’s hands now.”

“That was quick thinking, Percy, thanks.”

“Wandless! I was frightened someone would realise. I was not made for this kind of spy work, Harry.”

“Hopefully we’ll get results soon and you won’t have to do that again.”

“I’d sooner not deal with Malfoy again. The nerve of the man, really. He asked me about Gringott’s stand on blood suprematists!”

“How comes?”, Harry asked, puzzled.

“He saw something on Fawley’s arm, Latin numerals for four and seven. He hinted that it might stand for the sacred 28.”

“Well, sacred 27 by now… It still sounds somewhat plausible,” Harry argued. “And we suspect Fawley to have certain sympathies.”

“That doesn’t make it better!”, Percy exclaimed. “To hear that from Malfoy of all people.”

Harry laughed. “So, you’re pissed because Malfoy actually gave you evidence that our suspicions might be right?”

“You must admit, that life would be easier, if people we cannot stand would be wrong all the time. And it is not as if you like the man. Nobody likes the man,” Percy grumbled.

Harry shook his head. “Well, only a few. Hermione seems to like him well enough, if five children are any indication. I’d best make a note about it anyway, if Fawley is really involved in the money laundering. We might need him to testify.”

He saw Percy’s scowl. “That does not mean that I won’t look into Malfoy as well.”

On the way home, Harry walked. It helped him think things through. He wondered, if someone wanted him to suspect Malfoy. The fact that the incidents with Muggleborns were centred in Wiltshire did not sit right with him. Maybe he should observe Malfoy and ensure that the information was leaked. Not to Pansy though. Pansy would be livid, if he observed Malfoy. Someone from outside perhaps? It would be a complicated operation, but worth it in the long run. If people suspected him to look in the wrong direction, just because of old enmities, he could cover other tracks. He might be able to finally find the leak he suspected was in the department itself. It would also mean that he would juggle and exploit his friends.

When he was home, he passed the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. He seldom stopped to chat with him, but today he did.

“When you’re next in Hogwarts give my regards to Professor Dumbledore. I think he would be proud of me.” He wished he didn’t sound so bitter.


	23. Potions and Dark Arts (March 26-27, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco makes progress with his potion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another flash back chapter....  
> I'm sick at home with a cold, I have time to write and decided to update earlier.... Also please stay healthy, all of my readers!  
> That is only because I am a bit impatient to reach the chapters about the Trio at Malfoy Manor....

**Draco Malfoy’s memories (as retrieved on August 8, 2020)**

Draco’s ideas about Muggles had changed in the last weeks. Preparing the ingredients for the potion that could replicate the _scutum_ had been a nightmare. His hunch about cutting, slicing and draining everything via Muggle methods had been right, after all. He had ruined several batches of potion though, when he had not been meticulous enough. It had turned out, that the ingredients had to be cut very small and very regularly, a task that was boring and taxing at the same time. Chopping away hastily had not been a good idea. Poor Prudy had sickened up once and thrown up, something Draco had never seen a house elf do ever. He felt obliged to apologise to the little elf for relentlessly using it for his experiments.

It was Thursday night. Tomorrow he would leave Hogwarts to go to the Manor for the Easter break. He was definitely not looking forward to it. But he needed to do it. He had shamelessly plundered Slughorn’s stocks for rare ingredients, but Slughorn had run out, and Draco had written to his mother about getting potion ingredients. If anyone could procure Erumpent horn powder and bowtruckle eggs it would be her.

When Professor Slughorn had caught him pilfering his stocks, Draco had coldly informed him, that he was acting on orders. He had not specified on whose orders but had just circled his left forearm with his right hand and rubbed at it, readjusting his sleeves, trusting that Slughorn would have heard about his mark. That had been enough of a hint to let Slughorn back off. Unfortunately, Antony Goldstein from Ravenclaw had chanced upon them. Draco had thought that his reputation could not be worse, but apparently there had been still some people who did not know about his mark. Goldstein apparently had told others and Draco had been given an even wider berth since then. He thought it was somewhat ridiculous considering the Carrows continued to make fun of his cruciatus curses, at least if they got hold of him.

Just now, Prudy and him were testing the potion. It had turned out, that the potion did work on living beings, at least it worked on the elf. He had doused Prudy with quite a considerable amount, and he had fired all kind of spells at it. Prudy had flinched every time he tried an unforgivable on it. But either his will to really hurt Prudy was non-existent or the potion really was that good. Prudy did not feel a thing, although it wailed quite a lot.

Draco tried to reason with it. “You know, this is a big secret, and I can’t try this on anybody else.”

He was a bit frustrated. The potion did only do half of what it should do. The shield worked well enough and that alone was enough to make it an advanced and useful potion, but Prudy was still able to cast spells. That meant that as things stood now the potion would not be able to contain the Dark Lord.

Draco continued to fire relatively harmless tickling spells at the elf every five minutes to test how long the potion’s effect would hold. It turned out that it was six hours, how much potion really was needed would have to wait for another round of trials. After six hours the potion wore off and it was when Prudy helplessly laughed with an open mouth, when the tickling spell hit it, that Draco got an idea. He pictured how the elf had closed its mouth and eyes when he had doused it with the potion, even though the potion somehow evaporated immediately and did not leave one wet drop behind.

“I think we should try what happens, if you swallow the potion.”

The elf wailed, and Draco felt a pang of pity for the little creature.

“Fine, I’ll take it,” he said. He could hardly ask Severus to do it. And he would have to test this on a human after all.

He tried to drink it thrice, but chickened out every time. He finally ordered Prudy to force him to down the potion. The little elf was very unhappy about this order, because elves were not allowed to do anything to risk their master’s magic. It was only after Draco threatened Prudy with freedom, that it did as it was told. Draco managed to swallow when the elf fed him the potion and Prudy immediately punished itself.

The potion tasted pleasantly of mint, ginger and lemon, a fresh taste, not too sour. That was strange considering that neither of these ingredients actually were in the potion. Draco impatiently told Prudy to stop the self-punishment and waved his wand. Nothing happened.

He should feel triumphant, but instead he felt a cold fear. He felt very vulnerable and regretted his decision to test the potion. He should have tested this on an unsuspecting Hufflepuff, secrecy be damned. The following hours dragged on, while Draco tried to cast every five minutes. Prudy looked at him and winced every time his wand produced nothing. When he finally could cast again, he wept with relief. Prudy wept as well, and finally stopped trying to hurt itself.

Draco and Prudy hastily bottled the potion in handy vials. They left the Room of Requirement and walked outside three times, impatiently waiting for the room to change into the Room of hidden things. Draco deposited the vials in a cupboard with green doors and put his notebook behind an old picture of the famous first Quidditch match. He pocketed one vial in the hope to get it to Severus. Before they left and he dismissed Prudy, Draco went through the usual routine of withdrawing his memories. He shrouded them, except the bare essentials, the cupboard with the green doors, the Quidditch match, the fact that the potion worked, the taste of the potion.

When he sneaked out a second time, morning had come, and class would probably start. Draco wondered if he would be able to catch Severus. He was impatient to plan. He would have the Dark Lord swallow that potion sooner rather than later, but he knew that this would need meticulous preparation. They would only have one chance after all.

If he would not have been so overtired, he probably could have averted the Carrows. They were patrolling before the Great Hall punishing children who were late for breakfast. This was another of their random tortures. Sometimes they punished children for wanting breakfast. Draco walked right into them together with the small Ravenclaw girl Draco dimly remembered to have been on the receiving end of his wand at least once.

Draco’s feeling of triumph and hope bled out of him in seconds. The girl began to cry. The Carrows told her she was lucky they had chosen Draco to punish her. Draco had only seconds to decide, and he let the vial slip into his hands, grabbed the girl in such a way that the Carrows only saw her fearful eyes. He broke the vial so that the potion ran down the girl’s body and evaporated immediately.

“Don’t forget to scream,” he whispered into her ear and pushed her away. She was a Ravenclaw after all, she should be smart.

Scream she did, and sob until the Carrows laughed and told Draco that he seemed to get the knack of the _cruciatus_ at last. When they walked away, finally bored by their sport, the little girl picked herself up surprisingly fast. Her eyes were huge in her face, and she searched for an answer in Draco’s gaze. It seemed like the potion had worked. Draco just held a finger to his lips, even though he wanted to slap himself. Severus would be livid, that he had risked the secret just because he wanted to spare a little girl this once.

**(testimony of Helena Winters, Malfoy trial, February 2002)**

[witness] “The Carrows told him to _crucio_ me, and he grabbed me and doused me with something. He cast the spell on me, but I felt nothing, nothing at all. I screamed like he had told me to, though, so the Carrows would not suspect.”

[prosecution] “Are you quite sure, Miss Winters? The school year 1997/98 was a continuous horror for all pupils. Would you even remember one particular time the torture spell failed?”

[witness] “Mr Sloane, it is precisely because I really know how the _cruciatus_ feels, that I know that whatever Malfoy doused me with worked fine. I didn’t feel a tickle.”


	24. A day in a lawyer’s office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a normal day in Hermione's office, or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More puzzle pieces come together - hopefully.

_‘Just don’t get too invested.’_ Hermione could almost hear Draco’s voice. Terry Boots was sitting in front of her desk and he was exactly the mess Hermione had expected.

“Natasha really shouldn’t raise our son to have prejudices like that, not in this time. Why can’t she see that she harms him? I mean this is not only about me not wanting him to be prejudiced against muggles, it is also that he won’t get far in our society if he holds that kind of opinions.”

Hermione could not help herself. “Terry, anti-muggle sentiments are still quite widespread. Many carefully use the term muggleborn and still think that muggles and squibs are inferior, nevertheless. I doubt anybody will bat an eye if Andrei looks down on muggles just a tiny bit. It would certainly not hinder any career.” For all her pity, she had to scoff. “Well, unless he already knows he wants to join the muggle connection department at the ministry at the tiny age of 9.”

“How can you be so sanguine about that?” Terry asked.

“You signed an agreement, Terry,” Hermione answered. “You could influence him to choose Muggle studies at Hogwarts, you can wait until he is fourteen and has a say in where he wants to go with his dad. Now, Natasha’s lawyer will push for restricted access for you, and there is very little I can do.”

“I didn’t think Natasha was that serious about it,” Terry whispered. “She’s never been that invested into isolationism while we were married. I thought it was her family, you know. Her father insists that Andrei wears that ring with the family signet all the time. Natasha threw a fit the one time we forgot the ring at my flat when I brought Andrei to her. I mean it is just a ring.”

Hermione tried not to let her annoyance show. Just a ring. She would throw a fit as well, if Rina, Lizzie and Meg would not wear their bracelets, or if Colin would not wear his ring, when they were outside the house. It was their emergency back up after all. A way to call her if they were in danger.

“She might have charmed the ring with protective charms, Terry,” she argued. “Try to at least understand her. It will make things smoother.”

“Nothing is ever going to be smooth with Natasha.” Terry sounded bitter.

Hermione tended to agree but refrained from endorsing Terry. She promised him to try to reason with Natasha’s lawyer, but she doubted she could avoid a period of restricted access to his son.

Hermione was relieved, when her secretary told her that another client wanted to see her. It was a good excuse to get rid of Terry after he had promised payment yet again. Hermione doubted she would ever see any galleons. She would have to accept more duty soliciting to have enough to pay her secretary. And she hated duty soliciting, preferring to pick interesting cases instead of defending people she knew to be guilty. Maybe Draco was right, and she should insist on getting a percentage for the certificate of responsible use of magical beasts.

Her next client was Gnorlin, the goblin for whom she had secured a place at St Mungo’s. He had felt no calling for a career in finances nor metal-working and Hermione had argued that to not allow him a medical career would be discrimination. Gnorlin was the first Goblin healer ever, and he was quite successful, but he still felt discriminated against. Most of the times he was right, and Hermione had written several stern admonishments to the board of St Mungo’s. Despite Gnorlin being a regular client and despite his worthy cause, he was not one of Hermione’s favourites.

And she felt guilty about that. Ever since the goblin Griphook had tried to trick Harry, Ron and her during their break-in into Gringotts, she distrusted goblins, and Gringotts attitude not to allow her inside the building when they were perfectly good with Harry and Ron having vaults there because of their money, made her resent the goblins even more. She knew that none of this was Gnorlin’s fault, but she still struggled in his presence.

Draco had told her that part of her zealousness to win Gnorlin’s case had been about getting back at prejudiced goblins in retaliation and to show Gnorlin that she herself was above such prejudices. Sometimes he knew her too well. She carefully prepared another letter to St Mungo’s telling them, that there was absolutely no reason why pureblood families should reject a goblin healer, who was as qualified as the others. At least Gnorlin never failed to pay. And if she could get a jibe at the Sloanes as collateral benefit, she wouldn’t complain.

During her lunch break Astoria Greengrass came to ask her about the failure of the school scroll. Hermione was rather surprised Astoria turned up, despite that Draco had told her she might come. In hindsight it was rather funny, that both her and Draco had been jealous about Astoria. Hermione had side eyed Astoria’s talks with Draco about her book and Draco had feared her long and late talks with her client on her case against her father, because he somehow had picked up far earlier on Astoria’s preferences. While looking at a marriage crisis after resolution was something to smile about, it still made Hermione feel a bit awkward about Astoria.

If Draco was right on Astoria having had a crush on her she would never know, and she would certainly not ask. After they had sorted out their jealousy, Draco had told her that he could hardly blame Astoria to be in awe of the woman he loved as well. Their reconciliation still could make her smile.

Astoria seemed happy enough. She told Hermione that she had a muggle flatmate and that they lived in Muggle London.

“We sort of tiptoe around the fact that she can’t tell anyone that I am a witch, and I can’t tell anyone that she is …” Astoria stopped herself.

“Maybe more than a flatmate?”, Hermione suggested. “I won’t tell anybody, if you want to keep it a secret.”

“I told Neville,” Astoria said. “But I want to come out on my own terms.”

She grimaced. “I’d rather not lose my job over it. I’m looked at with suspicion by some parents already.”

Astoria produced the school scroll, to let Hermione have a look at it, but much to Hermione’s dismay, even after running several spells over the scroll, they had no luck in finding any fault with it. To Hermione it looked like the intricate spell work was functioning as well as on the day it was made.

“I must admit that I am at my wits end,” she finally admitted. “I wonder if instead of repairing it, you and Headmaster Flitwick could make a new scroll.”

Astoria grimaced. “I don’t know if I would be up to it. Unravelling the different layers for a diagnosis is difficult enough. I do think we would need at least four wizard and witches of the founders’ calibre. This is a daunting task.”

“You already checked the wizarding families for children that were not registered?”

“Yes, not all of them, though. I found three so far, that is apart from Matilda Fawley who entered Hogwarts last year, her being the case that made us doubt the scroll. There are Andrei Boots, Rosa Prewett, Wilfried Sloane.”

“Andrei Boots?”

“Do you know him?”

“His father is one of my clients. Strange. His mother is from Russia. Maybe that is why he is not on the scroll.”

“But he was born in England.”

Hermione frowned. “You should check the muggleborns.”

“That is what Draco said as well. But if any slipped the scroll, it will be a nightmare to find them. They only appear on their 11th birthday.”

“Which gives muggleborns a disadvantage in my opinion.” Hermione bit her lip. “Ask Pansy if she can get word around in the auror department. They are most likely to come across any irregular magic activity.”

“Would she do that?”

“She’ll check with her boss, but I don’t see why she wouldn’t do it.” She avoided the name of Pansy’s boss.

“That would mean that we go public about the failure of the scroll,” Astoria grimaced.

“In my experience, being clandestine does not help with the solution of problems.”

***

Her last appointment for the day, if it could be called such, was much more relaxed. She had tea with Luna in her office. They talked about the Zabinis’ journey to India and Hermione’s interest was piqued by Luna’s new edition of Newt Scamander’s classic. She was not thrilled to hear about Luna’s suspicion that there was something like an underground network for the smuggling of wild occamies though.

“I worked for years to get that damn law through the wizengamot,” she fumed. “How dare they!”

Luna blinked at her. “Hermione, you do realise that there are people who actually break the law? And that they do not care how much effort you put into that certificate?”

Hermione had to laugh despite herself. “Yes, Luna, I am aware of the fact, that criminals exist. I defend them, once in a while at least, and get money for it.”

“Of course, you do,” Luna nodded. “I hope that you would not defend magical beast smugglers, though.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. Any idea, why occamies?”

Luna shrugged. “I assume, that they want the occamies for their eggs. The egg shells are silver after all, even if you couldn’t sell the eggs with their magical properties intact on the regular market, with the new restriction of the ‘responsible use’ act and all that, the silver as such still would be worth enough to make a profit.”

For a moment her gaze wandered, and she looked out of the window. “If they actually manage to have them breed in captivity…. It would certainly be worth it.”

“Occamies do not do well in captivity.”

“No, but even if you’d manage about three rounds of egg-laying it would mean enough money to be worth the effort, even for the silver alone, not to mention what you could earn on the black market if you harvest the eggs before hatching.”

“Which would be at odds with breeding.”

“This is why they need fresh wild occamies.”

Hermione braced herself for the obvious conclusion. “You should alert Harry. Black market is right in his corner.” She tried to let her voice sound normal. It shouldn’t be that difficult to say Harry’s name. It was, after all, the most natural course of action. It still hurt.

Luna focused on her again. “Oh, I’ve visited Harry already.”

Hermione nodded. She suppressed a grimace. She would be better at this, if this week had not opened old wounds.

“I would just ask you to work on the loopholes in the certificate,” Luna said.

Hermione frowned and was about to give a scathing answer to that very insulting insinuation, but when Luna gave her half-absent endearing smile, Hermione bit back the answer that lay on the tip of her tongue.

“I have recently received a large donation to use for the benefit of magical creatures.”

Luna stopped as if she waited for Hermione to understand the rest. Hermione arched a questioning eyebrow.

“The donor entrusted me with the decision on how to spend the money but had very strong suggestions about the fact that the legal aspects should not be neglected.”

“So, you basically suggest paying me to look for non-existing loopholes in a law that I’ve prepared for years from the funds of this …. donor.”

Luna nodded enthusiastically. “If you find anything that would help with the smuggling that would be welcome of course.”

“Luna, even if I account for every minute, I could not possibly bill you for more than let’s say a week worth of work.”

“That would be such a shame, Hermione. To secure this donation I set foot in a house I vowed never to visit again, after all.”

Hermione stared. “More of a manor than a house, isn’t it?”, she finally said.

When Luna nodded, she asked. “How much money are we talking, exactly.”

Luna told her and Hermione felt the air leave her lungs. She was silent for a while, numbers whirling in her head. Narcissa Malfoy was dead serious about getting rid of family money to weaken the curse.

“I know you hate defending criminals if you are not convinced of their innocence or at least mitigating circumstances. You wouldn’t need to do duty soliciting for…. a decade, I reckon?”

Hermione still did not find words.

Luna laughed. “To think that I would see the moment Hermione Granger-Malfoy was bereft of her ability to speak.”

Hermione jumped up and called her secretary. Alice came in.

“Alice, you get a 10% raise, retroactively from the beginning of July last year. And write to the ministry, that they will have to find another defender in the Rowle case.”

She turned to Luna again. “Rowle is 100% guilty and I despise the rat, and Pansy caught him which means that the case against him is watertight anyway.”


	25. Pillow talk II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little domestic fluff....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really dislike the epilogue.... For me canon ends with Harry wanting a sandwich....  
> As ridiculous as it may sound, one of the things I dislike the most are the names of the children.   
> I have read many fics with an adorable Scorpius, and Scorpius is one of the few things I like about The Cursed Child (apart from Draco liking bossy Hermione of course), but the name, honestly the name....  
> There are so many constellations to choose from, but to choose that, really?  
> And don't get me start on Albus Severus.... which is even worse in a way. I am sort of o.k. with Severus as a second name, but would Harry really name his son after the wizard who prepared him for self-sacrifice???  
> So, for all the Scorpius lovers out there. I love him as well, and fanon Scorpius has almost reconciled me with the name.... but only almost. And to me Scorpius is the son of Draco and Astoria, an AU that preferably never happened....   
> My headcanon is that Hermione's and Draco's children would have different names, and I will disclose why they have the names they have...   
> So, I just wanted a fluffy chapter in between, and I wanted to elaborate and Draco's and Hermione's tendency to have acronyms.  
> Hope you enjoy it!

“I can use the money from the donation to pay Alice and all the stuff I need for my office and I can use the money from duty soliciting for the children’s school stuff instead of paying Alice. And you’re responsible for the food on the table, as always.”

Draco was as flummoxed as she had been about the loophole Narcissa had found.

“This makes things so much easier,” he whispered. “That is incredible.”

Hermione almost giggled at his relief. “You know, we should have waited a few days to buy Colin’s new wand.”

“As if you or me would ever postpone anything,” Draco scoffed. They smiled at each other.

“And you were right, after all,” Hermione continued her recapitulation of the day. “Astoria came to see me today.”

“I’ve always been right about Astoria.”

Hermione chuckled. “Oh my, to think how jealous I was! And how jealous you were.”

“I still think that our fight about Astoria resulted in the best make-up sex ever.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. “Do you ever wonder, how it would have been if Voldemort had not come back? You might have married her.”

“Yes, and we would have had one son – named after a constellation in the Black tradition.” He made a face.

“Well, Draco is a pretty big constellation, even if it doesn’t have the brightest stars.”

“You could argue that the name is a bit over the top.”

“I used to think so, when we were in school. I mean even other Slytherins had perfectly normal names like Gregory or Theo. But now, it’s just your name. It’s normal.” Hermione laughed. “You know, if you had had a son in August, he could have been called Leo, that is a nice name. And he might have been sorted into Gryffindor as befits a Leo.”

“Or he could have been born in October and be called Scorpius.”

Hermione laughed. “Of all the constellations to pick a stingy arachnid!”

“A name like that borders on child abuse,” Draco commented.

Hermione laughed again. “There are other more normal names. Perseus would have been a nice name.”

“Too much like Percy.”

“The pencil-pusher,” they said in unison.

Draco smiled mischievously. “I read a joke that children should be named after the IKEA furniture where they were conceived….”

Hermione chuckled. “I am sure there must be a bed that has a name with P.”

“Peer I, Peer II, Peer III, meet the children of Percy the pencil-pusher,” he smirked. “All conceived missionary… in the marital bed.”

“You know some names would be very embarrassing, or maybe too long…. I mean not every child is conceived on IKEA furniture, especially not in wizarding households.”

“Office desk,” Draco teased her.

“We don’t really know that. Door.”

“Carpet.”

“Broom closet at our friend’s wedding.”

“One Peer, I guess.” They laughed.

“Or the name could be an acronym that sums up the conception.”

“Efsissy”.

“FCC, Failed contraceptive charm.”

“Dubyou Beetee Eftiar”

“Hmm. Doubleyou B, T, F, T… Wanted but the first try, really?”

“Pi-ef”

“That’s easy. Pill fail. Although that’s not true it should be Pi-ef beeovi”.

“Pill fail because of virus.”

“WSTBFHCESBS”

Draco thought for a while. “Whoever said that breastfeeding has contraceptive effects should be sued. My turn: FTCBTSWG.”

Hermione thought about the time Robert was conceived. “Forgot the condom, but the sex was great.” She laughed. “Even though it was in our bed and missionary?”

Draco winked. “There is nothing wrong with wanting to be comfortable, when you close in on forty.”

He reached for her. “Come here. IWBOTSRN.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to sex right now. That’s a bit lame, love.”

“IWYSM, ILYSM”.

“Better, same here.”


	26. The Manor (30th March 1997) - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snatchers bring Harry, Ron and Hermione to Malfoy Manor, just when Draco is there for the Easter Break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is where I basically leave canon.... In a way. For Harry and Ron it still looks like it was in the books.  
> I left out Greyback, mainly because I think he is so super creepy.  
> I've read so many variants of this scenario in Dramione fics, because everybody knows it is crucial.  
> Hope you like mine! If you do, please do not hesitate to tell me.

Hermione’s thoughts whirled, desperately searching for an escape, while the Snatchers manhandled them on their way through the park to the big house. The house was huge, certainly more a villa than a house. She had always known the Malfoys were rich, but this house was insane. There were peacocks in the garden. She chided herself. She should concentrate on how they could escape. If they escaped, she would strangle Harry. How could he have been so stupid and actually speak Voldemort’s name!

The snatchers brought them into a big room with a grand chandelier in the middle. The furniture was exquisite. Hermione caught herself thinking about how much it all must have cost. The shelves held fine and intricate silver dishes that looked goblin made. Each one would be enough to buy another house of the same size. She thought she saw a house elf dusting the silver ware. She knew she was close to panicking. Her mind latched on small details as if this would somehow prevent the inevitable, Harry’s identification and his delivery to his enemy.

Hermione easily recognized the two women that came to inspect the Snatcher’s haul. She had seen Narcissa Malfoy several times at King’s Cross and she vividly remembered Bellatrix from the Department of mysteries. The woman who had tortured Neville’s parents into insanity. She could not help herself, the picture of Alice Longbottom pressing candy wrap papers into Neville’s hands came unbidden into her mind, threatening her very ability to think.

Narcissa Malfoy wrinkled her nose in disgust at the Snatchers, a sentiment Hermione could relate to. In no uncertain terms she sent the disgusting men away, as if she feared they would bring dirt into her meticulous and shining living room. The two women still held the wands of their captives of course and Hermione had no doubt, that even if they managed to get hold of their wands again, the two witches would be evenly matched against them. Lucius Malfoy joined his wife and sister-in-law and the odds became even worse.

Unfortunately, Narcissa recognised her and Ron, but they were unsure about Harry.

“Fetch Draco,” Bellatrix told the elf that was preoccupied with the silverware. Hermione’s heart began to pound even more wildly against her ribcage. Draco had wished her luck, but it looked like their luck had run out.

Hermione stood close enough to the door that she could see Draco’s eyes widening when he entered, but he quickly looked at the floor and when he looked up again, his face was an unfeeling mask. He looked deathly pale and Hermione thought he looked even thinner than last summer.

“Isn’t he one of the Weasley brood and isn’t she the mudblood that is with Potter?” Bellatrix asked.

Draco fiddled with the ring on his left hand, tapping on it and slipping it from his finger, on and off, on and off, on and off, as if he was distracted or just not very interested.

He came closer and scrutinized them closely. For the fracture of a second his gaze met Hermione’s.

“Yes, that’s Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Quite a catch. How did you get them?”

Bellatrix laughed her strange laugh, that was just off-tune enough to be chilling instead of musical. “One of the boys spoke the Dark Lord’s name. Snatchers brought them here.”

“That was extremely stupid of them,” Draco remarked. “To test their luck like that.”

“And is this Potter?” Narcissa shoved Harry to the front. “If this is Potter, we should call the Dark Lord. You can tell us, can’t you Draco?”

Draco let his eyes wander to Harry’s face. He raised his eyebrow, and circled him slowly, watching Harry’s distorted face very intently.

“Draco, for Salazar’s sake. You are in the same class as Potter, surely you can recognize him. He was hit by a disfigurement jinx or a fell into bush of stingy greenweed. I think I can see his scar.” Bellatrix said.

Draco studied Harry’s forehead as if he had all the time in the world.

“His skin could be just inflamed from the greenweed. It’s impossible to tell,” he finally concluded.

Bellatrix pointed at Ron and Hermione. “But these are his friends.”

Draco scoffed. “If you are so sure about it, go ahead, and call the Dark Lord, aunt Bella. I’m not going to call him until I am perfectly sure. I do remember what happened to Avery, when he claimed he had Potter.”

He continued to circle Harry. “He probably would be stupid enough to call the Dark Lord’s name.” There was a tint of a strange sentiment in his voice. Anger?

“Just put them into the dungeon until ugly boy’s face here has returned to normal.” He sneered. “If he turns into Potter it won’t be an improvement.”

Hermione’s thoughts began to flow again. Once they were in the dungeon and hopefully unsupervised, she might try a bit of wandless magic to escape. Apparition wards were probably in place, but maybe, just maybe the elves might help. She looked out for the little elf she had seen in the corner, but could not make her out at first. She finally spotted her under one of the chairs, quite close to Draco’s legs. Hermione tried to catch her gaze.

Lucius Malfoy had begun to search their bags, as if he could find the answer to Harry’s identity there, while Narcissa called for Pettigrew. Just when the ratlike man entered, Godric Gryffindor’s sword fell out of Hermione’s bag with a loud clank.

Suddenly, the room became very quiet. Hermione saw that Bellatrix had frozen on the spot.

“The sword of Gryffindor,” Draco said. He sounded very surprised.

“This must be Potter then,” Lucius Malfoy said. “Dumbledore bequeathed him the sword.” To Hermione’s horror he unbuttoned his sleeve and took a wand to his mark to call You-know-who.

“How did you get this? How did you get this?”, Bellatrix screamed. Her superior airs had vanished, and she seemed close to being unhinged. She clamped her hand on Lucius’ arm and hissed. “Don’t call him, if you don’t want to destroy us all.”

Hermione felt as if someone had put a cold hand at her neck. A distressed Bellatrix was even more frightening than a haughty one. And she had no idea, why the sword’s presence would disturb her so much.

“I will get to the bottom of this,” Bellatrix declared. The sinister determination in her voice made Hermione shudder.

“Pettigrew, take the boys to the dungeon. I’ll begin with the Mudblood. She’ll scream to give me answers.”

Hermione became cold with fear, her teeth began to shatter. She heard Harry and Ron scream and call when they were led away. Her thoughts whirled again, any plan for escape drowned in the storm of pictures of candy wrap papers in her head. She was at the mercy of the woman who thrived in torture. Here in this pristine living room with the fancy chandelier she would lose her sanity, if not her life.

When Draco grabbed her, she felt like a stiff doll, paralyzed with fear. He briefly yanked her towards him until his mouth was close to her ear. Her brain barely registered his hastily whispered words. “Scream for your life, tell her whatever buys time. Help is on the way.”

He pushed her away and she stumbled and fell on the floor. First, her frantic gaze met Bellatrix who was standing above her at her feet. She did not want the witch to see her weakness though and her eyes fixed on the chandelier above.

“Crucio”, she heard Bellatrix’ voice.

Fear had her in its grip and made her scream in anticipation of pain, and it took her a moment to realise that she felt nothing. Her screams made the mad witch chuckle in glee. Hermione begged her to stop and frantically turned her head this way and that.

For a short moment she opened her eyes and saw that Draco had sunk down on one of the chairs to her left. His left hand was on his knee and his knuckles were white as chalk from how hard he pressed the hand on his knee. But his right hand held his wand at the side of his leg just so that Bellatrix could not see it. The little elf she had seen earlier was crouched under the chair and held up her hands, as if she was working magic.

“Crucio”, Bellatrix repeated.

Hermione screamed again, as if she wanted to scream herself hoarse. There still was no pain. She writhed and pounded her feet on the floor, she begged over and over again, and when she thought it was too much, she began talking gibberish, calling after her mum and her dad. Bellatrix still had not uttered a single question, her cackle told Hermione that she had far too much fun.

Time lost all meaning to Hermione while Bellatrix repeated her spell more times than she could count. Hermione continued to scream and fake a pain she did not feel. She did not dare to look at Draco too often, most of the time she shut her eyes, or focussed on one of the crystals on the chandelier. Once in a while, her gaze would meet the determined face of the little elf, occasionally she thought she saw a brief flicker of what Draco’s spell looked like. A blinding white line like a ray of the brightest sunshine that connected her to his wand.

Each time her eyes connected with his, her hope grew. ‘Help is on the way’, he had said. She would just have to play her part. Each time she dared to look at him he looked more strained, more exhausted. She thought she could see sweat plaster his hair to his temples. She resigned herself to the inevitable. At one point, Draco would break, and the pain would claim her. Bellatrix had begun to ask questions. If her questions were anything to go by, she feared that they had gotten the sword from the Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts.

Finally, finally, the string of _cruciatus_ curses ended and Hermione took shuddering breaths. She did not try to stop her tears, although she did not really know why she cried, whether it was relief, the sense of floating in a protecting cocoon, that made her feel strangely safe or the hope that filled her heart despite everything.

She barely could make out Draco through her tears. She could see that he had slumped on his chair, his hands were shaking, and he barely held on to his wand. She tried to communicate her gratitude with her eyes and nodded, ever so briefly. If he was too exhausted to continue, she would make it through with her sanity intact. In this moment, she was almost overwhelmed by a feeling she had no name for. She felt as if for this sliver of a moment, she completely understood him, a sliver of a moment where she could feel his despair, his determination, love maybe, and how drained he was. The intensity of their locked gaze in this short moment was more than she had ever felt before. Their kiss paled in comparison to this endless and yet short time of perfect understanding and bared hearts.

It was a brief respite though. Bellatrix had pulled out a dagger and knelt before Hermione.

“Everyone will see, what you are,” she said.

She felt the knife dig into her forearm, but her voice had become hoarse with her show of screaming. She tore at her opponent’s hair, but the other woman was stronger, and in the end, Hermione was stretched out on the floor, and the knife had bitten deep into her skin. Hermione could guess what the letters would read. She blabbered, that the sword was fake, that it was not the real sword of Gryffindor. She told them to ask the Goblin although she had no idea if he would back her up. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that she barely registered what the goblin said, when he had been fetched from the dungeon.

With dismay, she saw that Lucius had uncovered his mark again, and that was the reason why she barely registered, that there was a commotion at the door and that Harry and Ron were calling for her. She became alert again, when she heard Harry shout. The promised help must have come, and she sprang, away from the crazed witch, ready to flee. The chandelier fell on the floor and in the commotion, Harry managed to fire disarming spells. Malfoy’s wand slipped from his fingers as if it had been waiting to be called. She felt the tiny hand of an elf and just before they disapparated, her eyes met Draco’s again and it was as if a cord had been struck between them that resonated in her very core.


	27. The Manor (March 30, 1998) II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape does his best to save Draco from Voldemort's wrath - which is not that easy, considering that Harry and Co just escaped....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered, why Voldemort did not kill the Malfoys and Bellatrix for their (from his perspective) inexcusable failure.....

**Severus Snape memories (as retrieved September 2002)**

Snape was walking the school corridors, when his wand buzzed insistently at his side. Draco Malfoy had triggered the emergency alarm. He did not hesitate and immediately picked up a steady pace to run to the lake. He disapparated as soon as he felt he had left the apparition wards of the school and apparated at the gates of Malfoy Manor. The park went by in a blur, while he sped towards the house.

When he entered the living room he felt as if he had entered the center of chaos himself. The priceless chandelier lay on the floor burst into a thousand pieces. Lucius Malfoy was screaming: “He is coming, he is coming.” Bellatrix Lestrange was wailing with what probably was frustration and seething anger. Narcissa’s eyes were wide with fear and she knelt at Draco’s feet. Draco Malfoy was slumped in a chair, looking utterly drained and spent, his hands shaking as if he had lost all control over them.

Snape hastened to him. “What happened?”

Neither Narcissa nor Lucius Malfoy asked why he was here. Lucius Malfoy was going on about how the Dark Lord would arrive any second and that they had nothing, that Potter had gotten away.

Snape stumbled, momentarily gripped by fear, and covered up his mistake by joining Narcissa at Draco Malfoy’s side.

“Short version!”, he snapped.

“Snatchers got Potter and his friends and brought them here. The Mudblood had done something to his face. None of us recognized him. Didn’t want to call the Dark Lord before we were sure.” That was Narcissa.

“Then, why is he coming?”, Snape asked.

“They had the Sword of Gryffindor. Giveaway. Aunt Bella freaked out about that. Potter, Weasley dungeon. Granger here, Bellatrix crucioed her to learn why they had the sword. Goblin said it was fake. Potter escaped dungeon. We fought. Lost. Lost my wand. Dobby disapparated them.” That was Draco Malfoy, speaking, the words coming out raggedly, pushed out with great speed, nonetheless.

Snape asserted the situation in seconds. His gaze fell on the utterly drained Draco Malfoy. Under his chair, the little elf Prudy was panting heavily.

The boy’s eyes met his. “Snatchers caught them because Potter said the Dark Lord’s name. How could he be so fucking stupid?” His voice rose. “How could he be so fucking stupid?”

Before he could ask the question one more time, Snape pulled him up by his collar and slapped him once, very hard.

“Merlin, Draco, get a grip, get a grip!”

Draco Malfoy stood with his mouth opened. He was utterly exhausted, his hair plastered to his temples, and his thoughts were probably open to anyone with a shred of legilimency. Snape checked quickly if Bellatrix had yet invaded his thoughts, but she was too preoccupied with her own fear for the moment.

There was no time for subtle magic. Snape drew his wand and pushed, using a non-verbal spell probably none but him knew, a spell that seemed to refill Draco’s resources, lent him some of his own abilities, if only for a short time.

Draco’s mouth snapped shut and his face became a mask, walls of occlumency built up in the matter of seconds, and not a moment too early. The Dark Lord arrived, his snake by his side, his ominous presence filling the room with a distinct threat.

None of the Death Eaters was stupid enough to remain standing. Snape knelt and the Malfoy family practically grovelled at his feet. Bellatrix was whining and stammering apologies.

“I would certainly like to know why I have been called,” the Dark Lord said, his voice deceivingly soft.

His demand was met with silence. His gaze met Snape’s. Snape met his eyes and answered with a steady gaze of his own. “I’ve just arrived to check on the potion’s ingredients I asked Draco to get for me. I am not entirely sure myself what happened.”

“Dear Bella, tell me,” he ordered the distraught woman who lay before him, writhing reaching for his feet and yet not touching them as if she did not think herself worthy.

“We had Potter,” she whimpered, “but he escaped.”

The Dark Lord didn’t wait to get a longer explanation. He distributed the _Cruciatus_ curse on everyone but Snape. Snape watched Draco closely, and saw his strength dwindling. He readied his wand, probably to redo the spell he had done before, when the Dark Lord suddenly stopped.

“You are very lucky, that I just got the most excellent news,” he said. “I am tempted to be lenient towards your continuous failures. It doesn’t really matter. Once I have what I want, Potter will fall.”

The Malfoy family slowly picked themselves up but remained on their knees. Bellatrix still laid prostrate on the floor, sobbing.

“I will hear some details, now,” he said. His eyes fell on Draco.

“You certainly are a disappointment, but maybe that is no wonder, considering your father. Explain.”

Draco averted the eyes of the Dark Lord and looked at the broken chandelier. He looked distraught, the shadows under his eyes all too prominent. His voice shook with fear while he recounted what had happened.

“I can feel your anger, Draco,” the Dark Lord said. “Why are you angry?”

He looked up. “Potter took my wand.”

“Let it be a lesson,” the Dark Lord laughed. “I thought you were just weak, but maybe you are stupid as well. That you would not recognise the Potter boy.”

“He is hardly my friend.” His voice was devoid of any emotion.

“Maybe I should just remove you permanently from my death eaters. Or should I rather take your father who made the mistake of calling me?”

It was a testimony to the fear in the room, that Narcissa shook and shuddered, but did not dare say anything.

“My lord,” Snape said. “If I may?”

The Dark Lord stopped scrutinizing Draco and set his eyes on the potions master.

Snape stood, his face as unreadable as ever. “Draco is working on a promising project for me. That is why I sent him here to get rare ingredients.”

“What kind of project is this?”

“A potion that basically works like a shield charm, more powerful than anything conjured up with a wand. It would make our forces indestructible.”

“And you think, I should let young Draco live?”

“He is clearly not a fighter, my Lord, but surely you know best how to use everyone’s abilities for the good of your reign. And Draco is quite skilled at brewing potions, if I say so myself.”

He scoffed. “Certainly, better than that imbecile Slughorn who can’t be bothered to really side with you.”

The Dark Lord laughed. “Severus, Severus, I can see where you are going with this.”

He waved Draco to come nearer.

“A potion that would make my fighters invulnerable?”

Draco nodded.

“How is your project going, and how is this potion called?”

“I have reason to believe, that it will work soon.” Draco licked his lips. “I have decided to call it the Phoenix Potion, because even the killing curse might be stopped.”

The Dark Lord’s eyes took on a cruel glint. “Well, Draco, I’ll show leniency to the Malfoys one more time. Leave with Severus. Brew your potion, and once it is finished, we’ll test its effectiveness against the killing curse on you and your family.”

Draco bowed. “Your mercy is past comparison, my Lord.”


	28. The Manor (March 30, 1998) III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minutes of the Malfoy trial concerning the events of 30th march, 1998, Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist. I like court room drama....

**Narcissa Malfoy’s evidence concerning the events on March 30, 1998 as given in the Malfoy trial (January 2002)**

[prosecution] Mrs Malfoy, before you begin to tell us about the events of March 30, 1998, I want to remind you that we have the testimony of your own trial, and that you were under oath at that time as you are now.

[defence] objection

[judge] on what basis?

[defence] the prosecution is correct that Mrs Malfoy cannot deviate from her testimony she gave in September 1998, but she can add information that was not relevant in her own trial.

[judge] sustained

[prosecution] Mrs Malfoy, let’s begin with the most important question. Did the accused recognise Harry Potter on March 30, 1998, when he was brought to Malfoy Manor by snatchers?

[witness] Yes, he recognised him.

[prosecution] What makes you so sure?

[witness] Draco and I had talked about Lord Voldemort’s rule when he came home from Hogwarts for the Easter Break, just two days before Potter was captured. I was complaining about the, for lack of a better word, discomfort of having Voldemort as a guest in our house and Draco agreed with me. If I remember correctly, he said. ‘You know, mother, that it is not likely we’ll ever have peace again in this house.’ That was the moment, I was certain, that he had doubts about Voldemort. I had suspected before then, that he was not happy, or less than eager, again for lack of a better word.

[witness] When the snatchers brought Potter’s friends, even I suspected, that it was Potter. I had seen him often enough in their company. Draco took his time, when my sister asked him to identify Potter, too much time I thought.

[prosecution] Wouldn’t you say, that the fact that he took his time, could be interpreted that he simply was not sure about the identity of the captive? Potter had been hit by a stinging hex after all and it distorts the face almost unrecognisable.

[witness] Draco usually is quick. He does not dawdle. And Potter still had the unruly hair and his glasses. His scar was also visible.

[prosecution] You want me to believe, that the accused managed to hide the fact that he knew it was Potter from your sister who was a powerful legilimens second only to Voldemort?

[witness] It was enough to sow doubt, and once Bellatrix saw the sword of Gryffindor, she didn’t want to call the Dark Lord any longer.

[prosecution] This, esteemed wizengamot, seems to me much like an interpretation in hindsight, understandable, considering that Mrs Malfoy wants to protect her son, a fact that is well known after all. No more questions.

[defence] Mrs Malfoy, how would you describe the atmosphere in Malfoy Manor at the time Voldemort was a frequent guest there. Would you say that you could talk openly?

[witness] (short laughter) Certainly, not.

[defence] Even not to your own family.

[witness] None of us ever spoke what we thought.

[defence] So, if someone else apart from you, let’s say your sister or another death eater like Fenrir Greyback would have heard Draco utter that sentence about how you would never have peace, how would they have reacted.

[witness] Draco would have gotten in trouble over it.

[defence] So, what do you think your son wanted to tell you?

[witness] He wanted to let me know that he was afraid and that he had doubts, as explicitly as he dared.

[defence] When he was called by your sister to help identify Harry Potter, did something strike you as odd?

[witness] Apart from the fact that he took his time? He fiddled with his family ring. He pulled it off and put it back on, several times.

[defence] Why did this strike you as odd?

[witness] My son is not prone to fiddle.

[defence] After Bellatrix saw the sword of Gryffindor, she decided to get information on where Potter had gotten the sword. And she decided to torture the captives for information. Did something strike you as odd, when that happened?

[prosecution] I am sure we don’t need to go into detail about that, Ms Granger.

[defence] On the contrary, this is very important. So, did something strike you as odd?

[witness] Draco stayed. Usually, he would avoid being present when people were tortured. He would leave whenever he could get away with it. And the fact that he grabbed you and…. threw you on the floor. It was not his usual reaction.

[defence] Would you say that it is possible, that he whispered something into my ear?

[witness] Yes.

[defence] Now, what did your son do when your sister cursed me repeatedly? Could you please describe where and how he sat?

[witness] He sat on a chair to the right of my sister.

[defence] Could Bellatrix see his wandarm?

[witness] No. His left hand pressed his knees, but the right hand must have been at his side.

[defence] Did you by any chance see the house elf Prudy?

[witness] No.

[defence] Did you notice anything off about your son, when Bellatrix stopped with the cruciatus curse and started carving me with her knife?

[witness] Draco was breathing very heavily, he seemed drained.

[defence] When Harry Potter and Ron Weasley entered the room, what happened then?

[witness] There was duelling.

[defence] How fast did Draco lose his wand?

[witness] Almost immediately.

[defence] When Dobby had disapparated us, Severus Snape arrived. Why?

[witness] He claimed that he wanted rare potion ingredients.

[defence] How did you son react?

[witness] He was very agitated, and Severus had difficulty calming him down. We were all afraid, because my husband had called … Voldemort.

[defence] Did he shout? What did he shout when Severus Snape arrived?

[prosecution] Objection. It has been decided that Miss Granger’s testimony on the events in the Manor are untrustworthy, because she was subjected to the _cruciatus_. She is obviously trying to make her own version plausible.

[defence] I am allowed to collect evidence for a different interpretation.

[judge] Not sustained. I hope you know where you are going with this, Miss Granger.

[defence] What did Draco shout?

[witness] He shouted “How could he have been so stupid?” Several times.

[defence] So he did not shout something like “Potter escaped”?

[witness] No.

[defence] What do you think he meant?

[prosecution] objection

[judge] sustained.

[defence] How did Severus Snape react?

[witness] He shook him, told him to get a grip, slapped him. It seemed to work Draco seemed to calm down just in time… Voldemort appeared seconds after that.

[defence] Voldemort did not kill you and your family for the failure to hold on to Harry Potter, why?

[witness] Severus convinced him that he had asked Draco to do a special potions project. A shielding potion.

[defence] Did you know anything about this?

[witness] No. But Draco had owled me about ingredients before he came home for the Easter break.

[defence] Thank you, no more questions.

[defence] I would alert the Wizengamot to the fact that Mrs Malfoy noticed that Draco Malfoy was ‘drained’ as she called it, after Bellatrix stopped her torture. Please note as well, that he seemed not to be distressed about Harry Potter’s get away. His distress was about someone’s stupidity. It is possible that he meant the mention of Voldemort’s name – which could be considered stupid since it led to Harry Potter’s capture. I would also alert you to the fact, that Draco Malfoy as has been proven by the testimony of Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood had duelled with three in November in Hogwarts and had not lost his wand, but lost almost immediately to Harry Potter, a fact that could be explained either by his exhaustion or his willingness to lose. Both would speak in his favour. It also is clear that the accused’s claim that he was developing a potion can be backed by his asking after ingredients before the Phoenix Potion was mentioned and by what Severus Snape said in the presence of Mrs Malfoy.

***

Excerpts from the testimony of Prudy, the house elf

[witness] I hid under Master Draco’s chair and while he cast the _scutum_ spell on Miss Granger, I tempered with his wand, so that Bellatrix Lestrange would not see it.


	29. Off to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas break is over and the children are off to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my headcanon that some of the more abysmal customs surrounding Hogwarts are abolished after Voldemort's fall...
> 
> I mean who lets a whole train of children unsupervised ?

Neville and Pansy went to the Grangers to get breakfast the day school started again. Ever since Colin had started with Hogwarts, it had become a tradition to see the children off. When they arrived, the family had just finished a drill.

“I know, you know it was a drill,” Draco scolded the children. “You still should not have opened the door before we went through the questions. I could have been poly-juiced.” He pressed his lips together, and the thin red line left from his split lip, suddenly stood out. It would probably fade with time.

“Dad,” Rina griped. “You are never satisfied. We were in the safe room in under two minutes, wards in place, my _patronus_ on patrol, and everything.”

“I’m tempted to do it again,” Draco growled. “Next time, just wait until I or mum have answered the questions, before you open the door.”

“Yes, dad.” Rina elaborately rolled her eyes.

“I saw that,” Hermione said.

“You were supposed to see it. Honestly, I am an adult now, I shouldn’t hide in the safe room.”

“It is because you’re an adult that you should stay with your siblings. You are the one who can conjure a _patronus_.”

“O.k. Until Colin will have mastered the _patronus_ ,” Rina said.

Breakfast was a lively affair. Meg and Lizzie showed Neville the riddle books they had finished, and Colin showed Pansy his sketches of elves from Middle Earth, or was it Mid Earth? Robert had decided that it was a good idea to test what noises his spoon would make on various dishes.

Neville accioed his newest acquisition, that he had just bought yesterday in Muggle London, out of his rucksack.

“Draco,” he said. “You know, the other day, I realised that it is really annoying, that I can’t contact you. So, I bought this, but I must admit, that I probably botched starting this.”

He placed the Muggle phone on the table between them. While Draco took the phone and looked at it, Neville took another slice of the fresh chocolate lemon cake, his favourite.

“You’ve charged it?”

Neville scoffed. “I know about electricity, Draco.”

Draco pressed some buttons and the screen of the phone came to life.

“Did you get a small plastic card as well?”

Neville opened his sack. “It must be in there.”

“It’s called sim card.”

“Accio sim card.” A tiny plastic item fell into Neville’s hand.

Somehow Draco had opened the phone thingy. Neville watched fascinated when Draco opened something that looked like a tiny drawer and put the plastic item in.

“You must have gotten a number to go with that card.”

Neville took out all the papers he had gotten in the Muggle shop. Draco looked at the papers and began pressing the small screen several times, too fast for Neville to follow.

Then he took out his own phone and wiped across the screen and pressed the screen several times. Neville gave a start when his own phone suddenly rang twice.

“I’ve called you. Now my number is in your contacts. I’ll show you how to use this on our way to King’s Cross. We must get going. So, who wants cookies for the road?”

Meg was the first to shout for cookies. “You are not going to school, young Lady,” Hermione said, but Meg got a bag with cookies just like Robert did.

Neville was pleasantly surprised when Draco gave him another bag. “You’re going to school as well, aren’t you? I know you like them. And you should get a reward for making sure the children don’t get into mischief on the train.”

***

Hermione ushered them to the very end of the platform 9 ¾ . They were early and there were not yet many parents about, but Lizzie had already waved to at least three other children, including Matilda Fawley. Matilda was a very shy girl and returned a miniature almost invisible wave that escaped the notice of her scowling father, who was bent over his shoes, waving his wand to tie his shoelaces. Luna and Blaise joined them at the end of the platform and the children chattered until the train arrived.

When the children made to board the train, Draco held Colin back. “Just to give you some advice, son, if you have a crush…”

Colin rolled his eyes. “…don’t try to get her attention by insults and sneers. I know this, dad. There is no need for you to tell me this, every time.”

Neville thought it was superfluous as well. The probability of Colin trying to imitate his dad in that respect was zero in his opinion.

Rina hugged Hermione. “There is no need for your love advice either, mum. I promise I won’t throw the avis spell at some unsuspecting person just because I am jealous.”

Hermione flushed. “It is pretty bad behaviour.”

Draco shook his head. “Of all your action, that is the one that haunts you?”, he asked.

“It is only the most likely to be reproduced. I hardly expect my children to have to do some of the stuff I did during the war.”

When the children had boarded, Draco gave Neville a last advice about his new acquisition. “I suspect that your phone could work at Hogwarts, if you put a _scutum_ on it. The connectivity is probably rotten, but you can give it a try. Don’t tell that to any of the pupils though. You don’t want all of the school suddenly preoccupied with smart phones.”

“I will try that,” Neville said.

He bent down to kiss his wife. He would apparate home this evening after the children were settled, but he would not miss an opportunity to kiss Pansy. “Good luck with the tailing,” he whispered in her ear. He knew better than to speak a name, but he had seen Pansy’s newest observation target already. Leave it to his dedicated auror wife to combine fun and work.

Just before he went on the train, he saw Astoria Greengrass hurrying along the platform a bag in hand.

“Neville,” she called.

“Morning, Astoria,” he said.

“I want to board with you. I got an owl by Flitwick this morning. Dawlish has taken ill, and the headmaster wants us to cover Defence against the Dark Arts for the next weeks. I thought we could use the journey to sort the curriculum.”

“Well, I hope Dawlish was not jinxed.”

“Don’t say that too loud.”


	30. A teacher's duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville walks the Hogwarts Express and tries to drive some important points home.

Neville walked down the aisles of the Hogwarts’ Express and checked in on the students. He personally thought it was one of the improvements from his own days as a pupil that made a lot of sense. Always have a teacher on the train.

He didn’t have to pick apart too many fights. Mostly the children would stop fighting when he came near, it was only one Ravenclaw and one Hufflepuff boy from sixth year who were too invested in a pissing contest to see him on time.

He saw Lizzie happily munching on the cookies from her bag together with her classmates. The children sat double in that compartment, but Neville let it lay. They were first years and if they wanted to sit cramped so be it.

James and Richard were unsurprisingly in the loudest compartment of all which held the Quidditch team of House Gryffindor. They were talking strategy for the next game.

“We will win the house cup this year, Uncle Neville,” James told him. “Hufflepuff doesn’t stand a chance in the next game.”

Neville found some encouraging words for his house team. He was just secretly glad that the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game was already done with. That one was still the most competitive.

Colin and Rachel were in a compartment of their own, their heads bent over books, the bag of cookies between them. Colin had apparently already recruited Rachel to the solution of what he called the “house elf mystery”. In a corner of their compartment sat little Matilda Fawley. Neville told her that her Hufflepuff housemates were in the front of the train. There would certainly be place for one more slip of a girl, but Matilda shook her head.

“I don’t feel that well, Professor Longbottom,” she said. “I have a bit of a headache.”

Neville pulled out his wand. “Let me check, if it’s anything serious.”

He ran a quick sickness finding spell over her but found nothing. “Best got to the Hospital wing, when we are at Hogwarts and tell Ms Auren to give you something.”

“You should drink something,” Colin said. “Headaches usually are just caused by lack of hydration.” He offered her a cup from his own water bottle, and Matilda drank a few sips.

Rachel took out her wand and waved it over little Matilda’s head. “This is an anti wrackspurt spell. This will help as well.”

“Do you want a cookie, Professor Longbottom?” Colin asked.

“No, thanks, Colin, just share them with Rachel and Matilda. I got my own after all.”

At the end of the train, Neville finally found the head girl, the head boy and the prefects. Rina had it all well in hand, which was no surprise. Her fellow head boy from Hufflepuff usually let her lead the way. Prefects and Heads greeted him.

“Are you finished with the schedules?” Neville asked.

“Not quite,” the Gryffindor prefect David Finnigan answered.

“When you are finished, I want you and Ms Fletcher to come and find me at the end of the train. Some House Gryffindor business.”

“Yes, Professor,” both answered.

When he reached the compartment, Astoria had chosen, she had already opened some books and pinned down notes on what they should cover. Neville looked at the curriculum of sixth years.

“ _Patronus_ ,” he said. “Can you conjure a corporal _patronus_ , Astoria? If you can’t I can supervise that lessons.”

“That would be nice.”

“Shield charms. Ah. Dawlish actually has the _scutum_ on his curriculum for the seventh years. His curriculum is really very ambitious.”

“According to his notes, the lessons on _scutum_ never work well. The spell is too exhausting and not everyone is up to it.”

Neville thought for a while. “You know, if we want the NEWT class to really get some practice, we could invite Pansy for some lessons. Maybe I could persuade Draco to come for a day. Then students wouldn’t have to cast the _scutum_.”

“That is a good idea, only some parents might not be too happy about it.”

“Well, we are only taking over for a few weeks, so they can hardly pressure the headmaster to sack us.”

Neville took out his phone. “I am going to ask him immediately. Who knows if this thing works at Hogwarts.”

“They work under a _scutum_. And I have a device to charge them.”

“Oh, yes, of course. You call your girlfriend with a phone.”

Astoria flushed a bit. “Yes.”

She sighed. “You know, Neville, it is nice to have someone who is so accepting about me and my significant other. My sister really tries, but she’d sooner not have me talk about Ellie.”

Neville scoffed. “I lived with Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan in a dorm for years.”

Astoria chuckled.

“Is it true that Harry Potter never had a clue about them?”

Neville chuckled. “When he was invited to their wedding, he thought they had a double wedding and had forgotten to insert the brides’ names on the invitation.”

Astoria laughed out loud. “That’s not true, is it?”

Neville shrugged. “Unfortunately, it is not even my own joke, but Draco’s. It sums up Harry’s cluelessness about them nicely though. Pansy told me that Dean and Seamus were an open secret even in the Slytherin common room. And that nothing surprised them more than the brief time Dean dated Ginny.”

Astoria nodded in agreement. “I somehow envy their bravery.”

“Well, Dean is muggleborn and things are different in the Muggle world. And after everything they went through when they were separated in seventh year, they simply did not care any longer. You are from an old family, your girlfriend is not a witch, it is more difficult for you.”

“Thanks, Neville, I hope I’ll find the courage to stand by Ellie.”

“On another note, it is true though, that Seamus did blow up the wedding cake.”

“Funny, that David somehow managed to inherit this particular tendency, although he is adopted.”

They both still laughed when the boy with two dads knocked at their compartment door, co-prefect in tow.

“Mr. Finnigan, Ms. Fletcher,” Neville offered them a seat. Both students had a bit of a wary look about them.

“Cookie?”, Neville smiled at them. “Don’t be alarmed, nothing serious has happened.” At least not yet.

Astoria had a puzzled look about her. The two students took a cookie and sat down.

“You will now tell me everything about the Gryffindor trial of courage.”

David Finnigan had stopped munching on his cookie and Jane Fletcher had become flushed within seconds.

“What?”, they stuttered. “Trial of courage, there is no such thing.”

Neville drummed his fingers on his knee and arched an eyebrow. “You do know that I have been an auror for years.” He still smiled.

Both looked at Astoria uneasily.

“I can assure you that I have my reasons to have Professor Greengrass as a witness to this conversation.”

“It’s a house secret,” David said.

“And I am head of your house and responsible for you. Out with it.”

Jane Fletcher was the first to break under his scrutinizing eyes.

“We do it at the end of fourth year,” she admitted. “We get a portkey by some …” she hesitated, “…former Gryffindors.”

“It’s meant to remind us of the bravery of Harry Potter who won the Triwizard tournament in fourth year,” David added.

“We go there, nick a couple of dark artefacts and leave again.”

Neville sighed. “What do you do with the artefacts?”

“We open the ‘Fiendfyre room’ and throw them in. And then we have a house party.” David looked sullen. “It’s one of the highlights of the year.”

“I can’t believe neither headmistress McGonagall nor Finchley put a stop to this.”

“I don’t think they knew,” Fletcher said.

“The ‘fiendfyre room’?” Astoria asked.

“The former ‘Room of hidden Things’. Where one of Voldemort’s horcruxes was stored and destroyed. It is still on fire.”

Neville looked at his two students. Gryffindor bravery really bordered on insanity, at least once in a while.

“And what exactly is the place where you go to nick these dark artefacts?”, Astoria asked in a very strict teacher voice.

“Malfoy Manor,” Neville answered. The two Gryffindor prefects gasped. Neville knew that he had just further cemented his fame in the school, but he had learned enough from Pansy over the years to not miss such a golden opportunity.

Astoria jumped from her seat. “What? Teenage Gryffindors nick dark artefacts from Malfoy Manor, of all places? As a trial of courage?”

Neville could not have hoped for a better reaction to drive home his point.

“Nothing ever happened,” Jane Fletcher said, somewhat sullenly.

“No, it didn’t,” Neville agreed. “A fact easily explained by the way. The lady of said manor has always seen to that.”

He grinned at his baffled students. “That certainly takes out much of the fun in hindsight, doesn’t it?”

It was an effort to keep a straight face at their shock, but even though Neville had just been teaching for half a year, he knew that it sometimes was not good to laugh.

“I want it to be crystal clear, that this has to stop. Trials of courage tend to be foolish, nicking dark artefacts is perilous, but now it has become a potential death trap.”

Astoria nodded vigorously.

“Why?”, David asked.

“Have you never heard about the Cut out curse?”

“Just rumours,” Jane Fletcher said.

Neville turned to Astoria. “We’re going to put the ‘Greengrass guide’ on the curriculum. Care to explain?”

Astoria tapped her lip in thought. “Some pureblood families tried to ensure that their family members would not betray their ideas and set up curses that would be activated in case of betrayal or for squibs. Anyone stepping out of line or a squib would be cursed, sometimes only in a mild manner, like them not being able to enter the house or have further contact with family members, sometimes the curses are deadly. In any case the affected are unable to talk about their family’s secrets.”

“Deadly?” David Finnigan asked. His eyes betrayed his uneasiness.

Astoria nodded. “Yes, deadly. Now, you can probably tell me, why the Malfoy situation is extremely volatile and dangerous?”

Neville supressed a smile. Astoria was in best teacher mode. Let the students work it out for themselves.

“The head of the house is dead, and the heir has been cut out?”, Ms Fletcher asked. “The curse has become volatile. And it is a deadly curse?”

“Exactly.”

“So, as your head of house I forbid this trial of courage ever to take place again. I will make an announcement in the common room, but I wanted you prefects to be informed. And if anyone goes against my order in this, House Gryffindor will start the next schoolyear with negative house points. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Professor Longbottom.”

“You can join your friends again,” he dismissed them.

The Gryffindor prefects made to leave the compartment. Jane Fletcher turned at the door.

“Professor Greengrass?”, she asked. “How could you even write your book?”

“The legal settlement with my father explicitly forbade him to activate the Greengrass cut out curse.”

“Blimey,” David said.

“Mr. Finnigan, guard your tongue,” Astoria said.


	31. Nursing (May 31, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape and Draco return to Hogwarts after the events at Malfoy Manor. Draco feels some repercussion from his overuse of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is a chapter where the past give a major hint at what will happen in the future. So, maybe someone wants to guess?

**Severus Snape’s memory (as retrieved September 2002)**

Snape insisted on side-by- side apparition. They apparated just outside the Hogwarts wards, and Malfoy stumbled. He let himself fall on the ground, panted heavily. A series of shudders ran over his body.

“You catch your death, Draco, lying on the cold ground like that, after you’ve nearly drained yourself.”

Snape stretched his hand out for Draco to take.

“Just a moment,” Malfoy said. “I try to wrap my mind around being alive. I can’t believe the Dark Lord let us live.”

“Let’s get you to the hospital wing, Draco”, Snape said.

Malfoy picked himself up with an effort and Snape supported him as they made their way to the castle.

“You did something, didn’t you?”, Malfoy observed. “This is another one of your clever spells. One minute I thought I would drop dead with exhaustion and then the Dark Lord arrived and my occlumency walls are tightly and flawlessly in place.”

Snape nodded. “It transfers magic from one person to another, apparently including that person’s special magical abilities. It was enough to give you some strength and occlumency.”

“Wow,” Malfoy said.

“And I’m not going to teach you that. It is a very dangerous and potentially dark spell if used against someone. It has the potential to drain all magic.”

“Thank you,” Malfoy said. “I appreciate that you took a risk. You saved me and my family. I really thought I had breathed my last.”

Snape waved impatiently. “Your mind was like an open book. I had to close it to the Dark Lord and there was no time for your usual work around. What did you plan anyway?”

“The only thing I could think about was buying time, preventing anyone from calling the Dark Lord and hope you would come up with something.” He shook his head. “To think that I almost died because bloody Potter spoke the Dark Lord’s name and my father was stupid enough to call the Dark Lord.”

He laughed. “Probably some bout of insane Gryffindor courage. How could he have been so bloody stupid?”

“How long?”, Snape asked.

“How long, what?”

“You cast the _scutum_ on Granger, didn’t you?”

“As long as my deranged aunt threw the _cruciatus_ at her. I lost track of time. At first, she didn’t even interrogate her. She just wanted her fun.” He began to shudder again.

“How long?,” Snape asked.

“Half an hour maybe? Not more than three quarters of an hour.”

Snape shook his head. “It should not be possible.”

By then, he was dragging Malfoy more than just supporting him. They had entered the castle, and were slowly making their way upwards.

“Granger needed her wits about her,” Malfoy said. “I told her there would be help. I have no idea how Dobby of all elves came into it though.”

“You should not forget that there is a Resistance and that Potter has many friends.”

“I could have just told Prudy to apparate them away,” Malfoy berated himself. “I should have thought about that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Dobby is a free elf, nobody would ever have believed Prudy to do that on her own accord. You’re absolutely exhausted and do not think straight.”

“Or if only I had had that vial of phoenix potion, I wasted on that Ravenclaw girl. Or better yet, if I had just taken two vials.” Draco stopped in his tracks. “Let’s go fetch them now. I’ll never be without a batch of Phoenix Potion from now on.”

“You are going nowhere but to the Hospital wing, Draco,” Snape said.

“You keep saying that, why? I am tired, but I just need sleep.”

Snape frowned. “Believe me, Draco, you need the Hospital wing. And you are not going to do any magic until I allow it.”

Malfoy tried to get out of Snape’s grip, but was too feeble to escape the older man’s hold. “What? My mother gave me her wand. I can cast spells.”

Snape tightened his grip. “I don’t know how you managed to hold the _scutum_ for that long, but it is a miracle that you did not burn the magic out of you. You should know that powerful magic like that comes with a price.”

“I could have lost my magic?”, Draco’s voice rose. “I could have lost my magic because bloody Potter was so fucking stupid, he let himself be caught?”

Snape shook his head. “Let’s not make this about Potter. It was your decision to help Granger.”

“My aunt could have tortured her into insanity like she did with the Longbottoms,” Draco protested, his cheeks suddenly flushed.

Snape closed his eyes. “Draco, I do not blame you for that. I do think that it is nothing short of a miracle though, that Potter escaped with Granger and Weasley and that neither of us were found out.”

“Potter has my wand. It was a good wand. I want it back. Stupid Gryffindor,” Malfoy muttered angrily, his speech had become somewhat slurred.

“Don’t try to get it back, Draco,” Snape said. “This might well play into our hands.”

He studied the pale boy at his side. “When you have recovered, we can make a plan how we can make the Dark Lord drink this potion. If we play our cards just right, we can even use the fact that he wants to try it out with you.”

As if to prove that Snape was right about his exhaustion, Malfoy stumbled again, when they resumed their walk. Since they had apparated, Malfoy’s palour had worsened. He looked like a walking corpse, but his cheeks had begun to burn.

“It’s not far now. I don’t want to summon a stretcher though. Nobody needs to know you are that weak,” Snape said.

Malfoy mumbled something.

“O.k. Tell me where the potion and your notes are, and I’ll fetch them.”

“Potion vials … in cupboard with green doors, the notes … picture of the first quidditch game,” Malfoy pressed out.

Snape looked at him, alarmed. “Merlin, you’re feverish.”

“How could he have been so stupid?”, Malfoy said again, suddenly agitated again. “Aunt Bella could have driven her into madness.”

He stumbled again. “Should have taken more of the potion. She screamed so loud. I don’t even know if the scutum worked the whole time.”

Suddenly, Malfoy began to cry.

***

**Malfoy trial, February 2002,**

[defence] Madame Pomfrey, could you please tell us how Severus Snape brought the accused to the hospital wing on the evening of March 30th and describe the nature of his illness.

[witness] When Professor Snape brought Mr Malfoy was burning with fever, in tears and very exhausted. He collapsed almost immediately, and he was not able to talk coherently for three days.

[defence] What explanation did Professor Snape give for Mr Malfoy’s condition?

[witness] He told me, that he had been subject to the _cruciatus_.

[defence] What is your professional opinion? Did Mr Malfoy’s symptoms match this?

[witness] Fever is not a typical effect of prolonged exposure to the _cruciatus_. It has been observed though.

[defence] Can you think of anything else that could have led to the symptoms Mr Malfoy showed?

[prosecution] objection. The defence tries to lead the witness toward her own interpretation

[judge] not sustained. She is asking after a professional opinion.

[witness] Fever can have many causes. Professor Snape explicitly told me to prevent Mr Malfoy from using magic though. I naturally concluded overuse of magic then and treated him accordingly.

[defence] How long did it take Mr Malfoy to recover fully?

[witness] three weeks.

[defence] Did he talk in his fever? Could you make anything out?

[witness] He was clearly quite agitated, but his speech was slurred. I think I heard him say the name ‘Potter’, and ‘Granger’, and he was mumbling about ‘stupid Gryffindors’. None of these really surprised me. Sometimes he would call for his mother, or Professor Snape. Sometimes he would just call out ‘No’.

[defence] Thank you. No further questions.


	32. Excursion to the Muggle world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy does some sleuthing....

“I have to be off,” Pansy said. “Work.” She hugged the whole remaining Granger family and hurried away. Her target was slowly making his way towards the exit of Platform 9 ¾ and Pansy had enough time to slip the tracker in the space between her fingers. She jumped through the column mere seconds after him and managed to collide with him on the outside.

“I am so sorry,” she exclaimed.

She helped him up, her face hopefully contrite. “Are you hurt?”

Her target shook his head but scowled at her.

“Thank Merlin, I am in a rush, pardon me,” she explained. She picked up her pace again. She briefly waved to the Potters and continued her show of hurrying until she had reached a Muggle café two blocks from the station.

There, she went to the loo, changed her appearance to an inconspicuous tourist and ordered coffee. She unbagged the Muggle A-Z London Maps and Walks she had altered to watch out for the tracker.

She had ordered a bagel to go with her coffee and just when she had finished, her wand vibrated in her arm holster. She leafed through Maps and Walks. She easily found the green dot. The uptight pureblood wizard had indeed taken the opportunity to venture into the midst of Muggle London. She smiled.

She paid and left the Café. As auror she had permission to use portkeys whenever and wherever she wanted. She went to a little side lane, picked up a paper cup some muggle had thrown on the floor and portkeyed to another lane that would bring her close to her target. Fortunately, the street was in a part of London that was frequently visited by tourists, so she did not have to change her disguise.

She spotted Fawley when he left one of the shops on the street. He had not bothered to change his look, but his clothing blended well into the city. That meant that it was probably not the first time that the wizard had ventured into Muggle London, an interesting fact in itself. He carried a plastic bag with the logo of the shop he had just left.

Just when he had passed her, he swore. Pansy looked up and saw him fighting with his shoelaces that seemed to have a mind of their own. He murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “…. that mudblood witch.”

Pansy buried her nose in her tourist book. She was not surprised to hear that word from him but wondered who he meant. Someone must have jinxed his shoelaces. Could it have been Hermione? The jinx certainly was persistent, because Pansy saw him bending down again at the entrance to the tube station.

She decided not to follow him further. The activated tracker would cause his further journey to be drawn into her map for another hour or so. Time to find out what he had been after.

She changed her tourist look and put on her shy insignificant wife face. She pinched her cheeks to get a bit of a flush, entered and asked one of the assistants in the shop, if her husband had been here. She described Fawley and the assistant’s eyes filled with pity. She laughed nervously and told her breathlessly that it was her husband’s birthday but that he always ruined it by buying the things she wanted to buy. She had a whole story prepared, not too long to stick in the assistant’s memory, but not too short to be unbelievable. If she did it well there was no need for a memory spell.

The assistant told her, that her husband had bought a drone, and led her to the shelf. Pansy suppressed her triumphant smile. Fawley had purchased Muggle devices, and there might be a connection between the money laundering and the Muggleborn attacks. Pansy memorized the name and number on the shield under the shelf, did her best to play distraught that her ‘husband’ had ruined yet another birthday and left.

She continued down the street. She checked her map briefly and saw that Fawley had left Muggle London. The line that showed his journey ended in the middle of a usually busy street and Pansy wondered if he had disapparated in the middle of a Muggle street. She clicked her tongue.

She found another shop that held the same logo as the one she had been in and there she purchased the exact same drone, Fawley had bought.

She shrunk the item and put it into her purse. She would have to find someone who would explain this to her. She sighed. She knew well that she was competent enough in the Muggle world to pass, but there were many things she did not know. Being ignorant irked her, mostly because she didn’t like listening to lengthy explanations. If she played ‘woman with no clue fawning over a man who can explain things’ well enough she would get her information, but it was not her favourite role.

For the rest of the day, she did legwork. She visited the families of the muggleborns that had been attacked and tried to find residues of the curse carriers. The parents of the girl that had been hit with the easy bruising spell were not particularly cooperative. Pansy did not blame them. To learn that their child had magic had been unexpected, to learn that malevolent curses existed and that they could harm their child did not reassure the parents at all.

Pansy made an effort to gain their trust. At least they were not sceptic about the concept of magic as such, and they allowed Pansy to talk with the little girl. Pansy tried her best not to direct the small girl’s statements towards what she wanted to hear, but it was not easy with such a small girl. The little girl did remember a magpie that had come close to her, and the parents confirmed that magpies were not that common in their garden.

Pansy knew it was important to keep an open mind and she wondered if it was a coincidence that the girl was muggleborn. She was so small, and her magic had manifested so early, that the curse that hit her might have been directed at a random muggle. It might have only been an accident, that her manifesting magic had been discovered. Hermione always said, that muggleborns came too late to the attention of wizarding society, since they only appeared in the schools scroll after they turned eleven.

Pansy shuddered. If someone knew how to detect muggleborns and put them under a permanent _scutum_ , they would never appear in the Hogwarts scroll, their magic shut off from the world. They definitely needed to monitor more closely for accidental magic. She wondered if the school scroll should be altered.

Pansy checked the tracker on the map, and Fawley had made another appearance in Muggle London, this time in an inconspicuous suburb. She portkeyed there, changed her appearance to that of an elderly woman and explored the small shops on the main streets. She would have to check in headquarters to learn if and where Fawley had spent the prepared Muggle money. There was no shop like the one where he had bought the drone, but the little suburb seemed to be something like a centre for craft. There was a pottery shop where customers could paint their own pottery, and Pansy saw a few children in the shop who bent their heads over the pottery. It tugged at her heart as always when she saw happy children.

There was a shop for bobbin lace, and a jewellery shop which advertised workshops for handmade pendants and bracelets, mostly silver from what Pansy could see. It all made the impression of being nice and not too cheap, but certainly much below the possibilities and interests of a well-off pureblood wizard. Who would need to make bracelets with Muggle silver wires, when they had Goblin made family heirlooms?

She hopped to headquarters next, and Teddy Lupin, auror-in-learning had already set up the observation recorders for Fawley’s money. Pansy was very pleased to confirm that Fawley had indeed bought the drone, and that he had been in the shops in the suburb. He had only bought some animal figurines in the pottery shop. They would get some material from the shops for as long as the pounds stayed in the cash register.

She walked by Harry’s office and told him of her success.

“That is fortunate,” Harry said. “That means, that we can justify our observation and continue.”

The law on observations was rather strict after all. The aurors could observe for a fortnight just with the permission of the minister, but any longer observation had to be justified in front of the wizengamot after twenty weeks. Fawley’s purchase meant that he was under suspicion and could be observed longer.

“I am off then,” Pansy told Harry. “Neville will be home by now.”

“Remember not to tell him any names. He is not our colleague any longer.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Sure, Boss.” Sometimes Gryffindors were not very realistic in their expectations. Did Harry really think Neville would not know who she was talking about just because she left out names?

“Did I spy Ron this morning at the platform?”, she asked Harry.

“Yes, he wanted to see Richard off.”

“How lucky you happened to stand at the exact other end of the platform,” Pansy grinned.

“Luck has nothing to do with it. Ginny insisted. She didn’t even hide the fact that she and Hermione agreed on where we would stand. Since we are the family who is always barely on time, we had to stand close to the exit.” Harry made a futile attempt to tidy his hair. “In addition, she made Ron promise to behave.”

Pansy laughed. “Ginny is a force in herself.”

Harry nodded, a proud smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hopefully, this will get us closer to unravel the mystery. If you feel inclined to guess at what is up with the muggleborns, please do so. I always appreciate comments!


	33. Bill and Fleur’s cottage (March 31, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione was rescued by Dobby, and now stays at Bill and Fleur's cottage and tells everyone about how she was saved from being tortured, but nobody believes her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very crucial chapter. It is all a question of what to believe after all.

Hermione clearly wished Fleur would not make such a fuss about her. She pressed the cloth with murtlap essence on her arm herself and brushed the other witch away.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine,” she repeated over and over, her croaking voice belying the fact.

“Hermione, that mad woman tortured you for more than half an hour, there is a wound at your arm, you are not fine,” Harry almost shouted at her. He felt guilty, guilty about the ordeal Hermione had to get through, guilty about Dobby’s death. His own voice didn’t sound like his own from crying. If only he had not spoken Voldemort’s name. They had been so lucky to escape.

“I was perfectly safe,” Hermione said. “I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Perfectly safe?”, Ron asked incredulous while Harry told her that she had become hoarse from all her screaming.

“I had to scream, or Bellatrix would have realised that Draco shielded me.”

“Draco?”, Ron asked. “Draco? Since when is he Draco? He threw you on the floor, probably wanted to see you tortured, Hermione!”

“Are you claiming that Malfoy of all people put a shield on you?”, Harry wanted to know.

He and Ron exchanged a worried look.

“Hermione, there is no shield charm that works against an unforgivable,” Bill chimed in.

Hermione scoffed. “Well, there obviously is one now.”

“And what charm is this?”

“Well, Draco obviously had to cast the shield non-verbally. And just before he threw me on the floor, he whispered in my ears. He told me to buy time and to scream, that help was on the way, and Dobby came.”

Ron looked at Hermione with round eyes, astonished.

Harry was very worried. “Hermione,” he said. “I called for help. Dobby came because he had a connection to Sirius’ mirror.”

Hermione blinked at him. “You mean, Draco did not call Dobby?”

“Why should he or why should Dobby come if he called? Dobby didn’t belong to the Malfoys any longer? He was a free elf?” Harry exchanged another look with Ron. Was it possible, that the _cruciatus_ curse warped up the victim’s memory? Had Hermione forgotten that Dobby owed no allegiance to Malfoy?

“Malfoy wanted to sell us to You-know-who,” Ron said.

“No, Draco didn’t want to call him, remember?” Hermione answered. “He clearly recognised Harry.”

“He was uncertain, you had hit me with that stinging hex after all,” Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron flushed.

“Harry,” she said in her explanatory voice that riled him up even on his better days. “Draco has been our classmate for six years. We three were together most of the time. Skeeter called us the ‘Golden Trio’. Do you really think, he would not guess, that it was you, when he saw Ron and me?”

“There you did it again,” Ron said. “Why is he Draco now? The ferret just didn’t want to risk You-know-who’s wrath if Harry hadn’t been Harry, coward that he is.”

“Why would he promise help then? Why would he protect me?”, Hermione asked.

Her eyes flashed in anger and her cheeks were flushed. “And I can call him Draco when he did his best to save me from the Longbottoms’ fate. If You-know-who finds out what Draco did, he’ll kill him.”

Harry could see the worry in everybody’s face. Bill shook his head, Luna stared wide-eyed, and Ron’s face was a mixture of anger and deep anguish. Harry took her hand. “Hermione, please calm down. You’ve been through a lot.”

Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes, and for a moment, Harry thought, that she understood what had happened. That she realized that everything had been blurred in her head.

How she had endured the curse for over half an hour he had no idea. Had she fantasized that the boy whose face was familiar had promised her help instead of watching how she was tortured? He patted her hand awkwardly, not knowing how he could show his worry without upsetting her further.

“Why don’t you believe me?”, she cried. Fat drops rolled down her cheeks. She pressed the cloth to her arm as if she wanted to permanently stick it to the wound on her arm.

“Hermione,” Bill said in a comforting deep voice. “Prolonged exposure to the _cruciatus_ plays tricks on the mind.”

Hermione hiccuped. “Or I just **wasn’t** exposed to the _cruciatus_.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Harry, you have Draco’s wand. We can run _priori incantatem_ on the wand.”

In her haste to go for her own wand, she dropped the cloth on her arm and Harry could see how ‘mudblood’ was carved into her arm in angry red letters. Malfoy hadn’t done anything to prevent that.

 _“Priori incantatem”,_ Hermione said.

Malfoy’s wand spattered, as if it did not want to reveal the spells that had been cast with it. It was only after the third repetition, that a bright rainbow ascended from the tip of the wand.

Hermione frowned. “I had expected it to be white. In the moments I saw the spell it looked shining white.”

“It certainly doesn’t look like anything I know,” Harry admitted. The others shook their heads as well.

“Anyway, whatever happened, you need to rest, Hermione,” Ron said. He came to her side and handed her a tissue.

“You all need to rest,” Bill said.

Hermione had taken the tissue from Ron and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “At least, we learned something very important.”

“What?”, Harry asked.

“There is something of great value in the Lestrange’s vault at Gringotts. Something You-know-who gave Bellatrix for safekeeping. That is why she freaked out about the sword – which is supposedly in her vault as well.”

“It must be a copy,” Ron said.

“We’ll talk about that after we’ve had a rest,” Harry decided. The horcrux hunt was their task and he would not pull Luna, Bill or Fleur into it.

“Please, Hermione, rest,” he said, pressing her hand.

Fleur gave Hermione a fresh cloth and then they all left her.

“Pleaze call, if you need zomething,” Fleur said before she closed the door. Hermione was already laying on the bed, her eyes closed. She nodded.

Harry and the others went to the kitchen where they were served tea and sandwiches, and Bill distributed towels for all.

After he had arranged his own bed, Harry tiptoed to Hermione’s room. He cracked the door open quietly, not wanting to wake his friend. Hermione sat on her bed, her back to Harry, bent over Malfoy’s wand in her hand. She waved her own wand, not making a sound. Multiple spell residues came out of the tip of the wand, first the rainbow, a spell that lasted for a while, then others, insignificant spells, a razor spell, a hairdressing spell, the greyish hue of apparating. Harry flinched, when the dark turquoise of the _cruciatus_ spell appeared, but not because he was surprised that Malfoy had used it, but because Hermione stopped the string of spells, and began to sob, biting her hand in an attempt to suppress the sound.

He entered and laid his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She had dropped both, her own wand and Malfoy’s. She just sobbed for a while and Harry held her. Harry did not understand why she would shed tears over something she must have known. Malfoy was a death eater, of course he had cast unforgivables.

Still, now was not the time to fight about whatever Hermione thought Malfoy had done. Her fear was well-founded in any case. Lucius Malfoy had called Voldemort and Harry was quite certain that the Malfoys would be punished for their escape.

He almost felt sorry for his enemy. Hermione thought that he had not identified Harry to help them, Ron thought it had been cowardice or maybe caution. Harry tended to agree with Ron, but whatever the reason, Malfoy’s failure to identify Harry had saved his life and it might well cost him his.


	34. The Common Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin is back at Hogwarts and launches into research.... He really wants to tackle the question why muggle myth about elves is so different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine gives me plenty of time to write.... And I'm in a flow.... So have another chapter.  
> Hope you like it.  
> Thank you to all my steadfast readers and commenters.

The very first thing Colin did, when they had arrived at Hogwarts was to go to the library, even before he had unpacked. Mr Fillingham greeted him with a smile and offered to help him with his research, since no other students were there yet.

There were only a handful of books on house elves and Mr Fillingham laughed outright when he filled in the cards for Colin to take the books with him.

“Why do you laugh?” Colin asked.

“Look, who was the last person who borrowed these books!” Mr Fillingham answered. Colin saw his mother’s name.

He shook his head. “Why is it that nobody has an interest in house elves? I would have thought that after the house elf rebellion there would have been at least some research.”

“Oh, that is all in the restricted section.” Mr Fillingham said. “To see them you have to make a project out of it and get some teacher’s signature.”

Colin was disappointed. If his mother had already read all the books, it was highly unlikely that he would find anything he did not know already. Maybe uncle Neville would sign him a permit, even though house elves had no connection to Herbology.

He put the books in his bag and made his way back to the Gryffindor tower. He was deep in thought and almost lost his footing after rounding a corner. It felt as if he had walked into someone and he opened his mouth to apologize, but there was nobody. Colin shook his head. He probably had just stumbled over a lump on the floor.

He gave the Fat Lady the password and entered. There was a loud discussion going on in the common room. Everyone was talking about how the house party was apparently ruined. David Finnigan and Jane Fletchley stood in the middle of the room. David had his arm crossed.

Colin wondered what the ruckus was about. He was not very interested in the house party which he always tried to avoid. He tried to squeeze past the others and to reach his dorm. He accidentally bumped into one of the girls form sixth year and apologised.

She looked at him very strangely, and somehow just around him everyone fell quiet. Colin squirmed under what felt like a myriad of scrutinizing eyes. He could not sort out what this meant. He thought he saw pity in some eyes, and irritation in others. He smiled vaguely in the attempt to deflect the unwanted attention.

David had realised that the room had fallen silent and used it to announce: “You heard Professor Longbottom. Our head of house has spoken! Jane and I will think about doing the party in another way.”

David scowled at everyone and held their gazes. His eyes met Colin’s, and his scowl vanished. He nodded shortly at Colin. Colin nodded in return, although he had no idea, what this was all about. He wondered, if he should ask someone, but with so many eyes on him, he decided against it. This was just about the house party after all.

The Gryffindors mumbled and muttered, but David’s announcement was accepted, and they scattered and more importantly stopped to look at Colin. He took the opportunity to drop his books in his dorm and then he searched out his favourite spot at one of the windows. He took his pencil and began to sketch and soon the common room’s atmosphere was back to normal and everybody ignored Colin, which was fine by him. Richard Weasley and James Potter were nowhere in sight. He could almost be happy.

He had drawn for some time, when he heard a very soft ‘plop’ at his side.

“Hi Prudy,” he said, even before he had looked up. The little house elf had materialised at his left elbow and looked curiously at his sketches.

Colin looked at her and smiled. “Dad sends his regards. You can come over for tea on your next free Saturday, if you want. Dad will try some new baking recipes.”

Prudy settled down on the windowsill. “That depends on the recipes,” she said.

“Dad catered for a Christmas party for a German firm and he wants to try out some German biscuits.”

“Biscuits are fine,” Prudy said.

“What is this?” She pointed at Colin’s sketch book.

Colin told her about ‘Lord of the Rings’ and the elves in Tolkien’s world. He could have sworn Prudy’s ears grew more pointed when her interest was piqued.

“You don’t happen to have any idea about why elves are so different in Muggle literature.”

Prudy gave something between a headshake and a nod.

Colin frowned. “Well, do you have an idea or not?”

“Not an idea,” Prudy said, her voice sounded somewhat strained. Colin wondered why she was uneasy.

“I certainly think, it is interesting, and I want to do research on it.”

Prudy nodded vigorously.

“You won’t find much, I am sure. And the things you find… you should not take everything at face value,” she said.

“Have any house elves written about themselves or elf history?” Colin asked.

“No, we weren’t allowed. There are just the stories we tell amongst ourselves.”

“Oh,” Colin was excited. “Can you tell me these stories?”

Prudy shook her head. “No, I can’t. These stories are taboo. Even I dare not tell them, although the particular conditions of my liberation give me more possibilities.”

Colin was taken aback. “Taboo? Why? And what do you mean particular conditions?”

The little elf squirmed uneasily, and Colin decided to let it drop.

“Why do you talk differently, Prudy?” he asked her.

“What do you mean?”

“You do not talk like other elves. Like talking about yourself in the third person and all that. You know, I never would even have realised this, but dad observed that, when we talked about elves.”

“I’ve been free for more than two decades. And unlike other elves I have no magical working contract. I have a real job.”

“And your freedom influences your speech.”

Prudy nodded. “I think it is a great idea, that you want to look into elf history.”

“Really?”, Colin asked. “You know, everyone else but Rachel and my mmm seems to think I am nuts.”

“Yes, wizards and witches have not been encouraged to have interest in house elves.”

Prudy fell silent and studied his sketches, a look of intense interest on her face that almost frightened Colin. A shadow fell on Colin’s paper. Jane Fletcher stood at his side and tried to get a glance at his sketch.

“Colin,” she asked. “Can I ask you something?”

Colin nodded warily. He barely had any contact to Jane. He was tempted to cover his sketch but decided against it. Prudy didn’t think this was a waste of time.

“How the heck did your father survive all that?”

Colin blinked. He had no idea, what made Jane ask that.

“You know about the _scutum_ , don’t you?”, he asked. “I think the second war against Voldemort is a subject in fifth year?”

Jane nodded and Colin shook his head, trying to hide his irritation. “NINO. Nothing in, nothing out. So, the answer to your question, is, quite obviously, that Severus Snape is the reason my father survived.”

Jane exhaled loudly, her look puzzled.

Colin frowned. “So, if this is about the long running debate whether Snape or Dumbledore was the greater wizard you can jot down my vote on Snape’s side. And I don’t care that he was in Slytherin.”

“I wonder, how you can be so equanimous about all that. Isn’t this all incredibly weird to you?”

“Jane, my last name is Granger-Malfoy, I can assure you that ‘weird’ does not even come close.”

Jane laughed loudly at that. “I guess you are accustomed to weirdness.”

Colin did not think it had been that funny, but he smiled at Jane. It might be a good idea to have another prefect besides David who was not entirely opposed to him.

His smile faltered though, when he saw Richard and James, coming towards him with determined strides. He tried to make a mask of his face, just the way he had seen his father do. He thought about what his mum and his dad had told him, how he could do this.

Jane stayed were she was.

“Malfoy,” James said.

Jane frowned, and Colin could feel Prudy patting his arm.

Their presence made him bold.

“Colin Granger-Malfoy,” he said and gave James and Richard a mock bow. “Son of a death-eater, inept at flying, swot, and you don’t know why I’m in Gryffindor. Save your breath, Potter. I’ve heard it all, many times.”

James looked at his feet and Richard flushed.

“Look…” James began.

“I am the son of the weasel king,” Richard burst out.

Colin blinked.

“Just so, that you, as well, don’t have to waste your breath.” He almost smiled.

Colin was at a loss.

“Look,” James began again. “My mum told us that she will hex us from here to eternity if we do not manage to behave better than – how did she put it – stupid men who think it is a good idea to get into a brawl.”

“And I always do as Aunt Ginny tells me,” Richard added.

“So, what is this supposed to be?” Colin asked.

“A truce, I guess?”, James answered.

Colin was not sure, if he trusted them. He looked at them, suspicions boiling inside. But would they prank him with a prefect as witness?

He looked at Jane, but she seemed as surprised as he was.

“O.k.,” Colin said. “I guess.” He could almost hear his parents in his head. ‘Benefit of the doubt’, a concept Colin was well acquainted with.

He was not sure, if they should shake hands to seal the deal, but Richard and James had already turned.


	35. Locked out (April 22, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco encounters some unexpected problems as the resistance against Voldemort becomes a hindrance to his plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still in a flow of writing. So here is another chapter....

**(Draco Malfoys memories, as retrieved August 8, 2020)**

When Draco left the hospital wing on the insistence of Severus, who feared that word of his illness might reach the Dark Lord, he still felt a bit shaky on his legs. He had been fortunate that the Dark Lord had not summoned him, but his father had written a letter and had told him to hurry with his project. The Dark Lord was apparently getting impatient. Draco was sure, that the Dark Lord was bored and wanted to have some fun, playing with the Malfoys.

Before he would go back to the Manor, he would need to prepare a fool-proof plan though. How could he get the Dark Lord to swallow the Phoenix Potion that would render him helpless and without magic? If he would apply the potion to himself and his parents before he met the Dark Lord, he could then swallow some and pretend that swallowing the potion had the shielding effect, in the hope that the Dark Lord would fall for it.

Draco did not like this plan particularly. It had too many holes. First, he would have to occlude his plan and given his ineptness at occlumency he might not be able to hide it. Unless Severus lend him some of his strength again, something that would have to occur without the Dark Lord realising it, and before he doused himself with the potion. Secondly, he either had to let his parents in on the plan or he somehow had to trick them. And thirdly, the Dark Lord might be confident enough in his own abilities, that he just would not swallow the potion. And that left out the fact that Draco did not know for sure, if the Phoenix Potion **did** shield from the killing curse. He pictured himself lying dead on the ground because his potion had failed spectacularly, his mother in grief and the Dark Lord cackling.

And Draco desperately wanted to come up with a plan that would not involve him swallowing the damn potion. He shuddered, when he thought about standing helpless without magic before the Dark Lord’s red eyes.

Draco’s feet had led him to the Room of Requirement. Before he planned further ahead, he would fetch his potion vials. He went back and forth three times to open the Room of Hidden things.

Nothing happened.

Cold dread gripped Draco and he tried again.

Nothing happened.

Thoughts fled him, his knees gave way and he sat on the ground trying to calm his breathing.

He tapped his ring to call Prudy and the little elf appeared. Draco pointed at the place in the wall, where the Room of Hidden Things should open.

Prudy looked at him with big round eyes, half desperate and half clueless. Apparently, Prudy did not know either, why the room would not open.

Draco heard footsteps and quickly cast a disillusionment charm and hid behind one of the tapestries. It was Longbottom. He ran back and forth three times and the room opened for him. Draco managed to look inside if only for a second. He saw many people, sleeping bags, cooking equipment, it was a whole inside camping site.

His knees buckled. With so many people in the room there was no chance to open another version of the room. There must be at least 30 who wished for a room to camp, 30 against one Draco Malfoy who desperately needed a potion.

Draco did not know how long he sat in front of the room, that held his hope and was yet unattainable. He could not possibly tell 30 Gryffindors to leave. He could not walk in there – even supposing he would manage to get the room to open – and tell them. “ _You might know me as a Death eater, but I don’t believe that shit any longer and I just need you all to leave so I can fetch the potion that might defeat the Dark Lord.”_ He could almost picture Longbottom or the Weaselette laughing at him.

Prudy sat beside him, and occasionally patted his elbow. Draco would never have admitted it, but her presence was a comfort.

Hours passed before he finally pulled himself together and stood up. His memory of the night, he had arrived at the Hospital Wing was a blur, but maybe, just maybe he had told Severus about his notes and the potion and he had fetched them. He didn’t even remember if had stored away that memory.

He waited until dinner time. But the headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Draco skipped the meal and searched for him. He chanced upon him when he came down from the stairways to the headmaster’s office.

They went to the potion classroom, which was empty, because everyone was in the hall for dinner. Severus confirmed Draco’s suspicions that the Gryffindors and other members of the resistance had set up camp in the Room of Requirement.

“You can hardly blame them for looking for a refuge,” Severus said. “And I agree, the room will not open for you as it stands now.”

“I got your notes though,” his godfather added.

“But I will have to start all over again.” Draco moaned.

“Yes. I am sorry. By the time I realised what Longbottom was up to, it was too late.”

“I’ll need a fortnight at least.”

“And we need a plan how we can make him swallow the potion.”

“The potion has a very distinct flavour. We can’t just mix it into his drink.” Draco frowned. “Does he even drink?” He had never seen the Dark Lord drink or eat.

“Yes,” Severus said. “He cannot defy all of life’s rules.”

Severus laid a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Start tomorrow. You are still not fully recovered. Ward a room tightly, brew your potion, don’t hesitate to steal from Slughorn. I’ll cover for you.”

Draco nodded, desperately clinging to this thin thread of hope.

“Don’t lose hope. Potter might still succeed, and I have been working on another plan. One way or other the Dark Lord will fall.”

***

**[evidence of Prudy the house elf during the Malfoy trial, January 2002]**

[witness] Professor Snape called me, a few days after we found the Room closed. He gave me something that looked like a huge opal, shimmering white with rainbow hues. It was about the size of a small child’s fist. It did not feel like a stone though, it was soft and squishy, and he had put it in a little box, where it sat on straw. He told me to use it in an emergency, that a _scutum_ spell was encased in it, a _scutum_ spell that would last considerably longer than usual. He didn’t want it on his person, in case he was searched. I used this on Draco when death eaters wanted to kill him after the battle of Hogwarts.


	36. Failed tailing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry receives an unexpected visitor in the auror department.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the case gets some momentum....
> 
> Just in case this is triggering for some. A child's death is mentioned, but it is nobody we know.

Harry met Ron and George for luncheon. He was glad for the diversion. Several of his cases had been at a stall for weeks. The initial excitement of having found out that Fawley might have a connection to the case of muggleborns had long since worn off, since they had no new leads. Percy was pulling blanks as well so far. And the search for muggleborns younger than 11 had not been fruitful yet. Underage accidental magic was just too erratic.

Pansy was off doing legwork, as was Teddy Lupin and several other aurors. It was one of these days, where work seemed to be a nuisance.

Ron had left his American Quidditch team amicably, the divorce from Lucretia was far worse. Ron talked of ‘complications’ but did not elaborate. Apparently, Lucretia was hell bent on making him pay. Until he’d join his new Britain based Quidditch team in April for the spring season, Ron had plenty of time at his hand, too much maybe. Most of the time he spent with George in the joke shop and apparently, they had fun. Sometimes he would just hang around in Grimmauld Place, sometimes he would visit Harry in the auror department.

So, it was not that unusual for Ron to accompany him to the department, even if a lunch that had stretched well into teatime was unusual. Harry’s hackles raised when he entered though. There were only a few aurors in the office and they sported a decidedly unhappy look, as if they were out of their debts.

“Mr. Potter,” young Wally said, at the exact moment that the person in a black suit who had been sitting leisurely on one of the desks, turned. It was Malfoy.

“Mr. Potter,” Wally repeated. “Mr. Malfoy said he has come to confess his crimes, but only to you.”

Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again his eyes met Malfoy’s. He had raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Harry could see the smirk that was not yet there but waited in the corners of his mouth.

Harry’s hand had moved quickly almost without thinking to hold Ron in his place.

“I just have a guess, Wally. Mr. Malfoy wanted to see Pansy, but she is not here. Then he asked for me. But none of you thought he was worth my time. And it was only then, that he mentioned ‘confessing crimes’ and only to me.”

Wally’s mouth fell open. He was at a loss for words and flushed slightly.

“How well you know me, Potter,” Malfoy said. The smirk that had been sitting in the corners of his mouth now openly on display.

“Wally,” Harry addressed the young man. “… in the future, just alert me, o.k.? I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy is not keen on spending time with me. I suppose, this is actually important.”

Wally nodded sheepishly.

“You look like you’ve been to a funeral, Ferret, all in black.” Ron said.

“That’s because I was, Weasel,” Malfoy answered. “Believe it or not, people eat at funerals.”

Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, keeping a firm hold on him. “Come into my office, Malfoy.” He gestured to his office with his free hand.

When Malfoy had vanished in Harry’s office, Ron disentangled himself from Harry and made to follow, but Harry shook his head at him. “Not you, Ron. You go on to Grimmauld.”

Harry firmly closed the door into Ron’s and Wally’s faces and gestured at the seat in front of his desk. He rounded his desk to sit in his chair.

He combed through his hair and looked at the other man. “So, what is it?”

“Whatever it was, I didn’t do it,” Malfoy answered. His smirk had vanished, and his face showed suppressed anger.

“What do you mean?”, Harry asked, trying to deflect. He had expected this visit and this question in a way, just not yet.

“I have nothing to do with it. Whatever the crime was that had you setting someone on tailing me….” Malfoy’s jaws looked tense.

“Tailing?”, Harry feigned ignorance.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Potter, I’ve been living in Muggle London for twenty years. Do you really think I cannot spot a wizard who tries too hard to fit? Or lose him on the tube?”

“Last I checked, I am not responsible for the comings and goings of wizards in Muggle London, as long as they don’t break any wizarding law.” Harry shrugged.

Malfoy was not to be deterred. “Did you even get a green light for having me tailed? And on what grounds?”

“I wonder why you would assume that I would ever have someone observed without a permit. I’d say, you were mistaken,” Harry stated.

He looked Malfoy straight in the eye. “I can assure you, that I don’t suspect you of being guilty of any crime for the last two decades or so,” he added. “I mean you have a scathing and provoking tongue, but nobody lands in Azkaban for that.” Technically, this was nothing but the truth.

But he was talking to a Slytherin after all, and one who had lied with the truth quite often. Malfoy did spot the loophole. He narrowed his eyes at Harry. “That doesn’t mean that you don’t have me tailed nor that there is nobody else who suspects me.”

Harry bared his teeth for a fake smile. “You have so many friends, Malfoy. That should be impossible.”

“O.k. Potter, I give you the benefit of the doubt.” Malfoy’s smile was as fake as his own. “Over the years, I have grown quite fond of the concept, after all. I assume that either you have no idea one of your people was tailing me and will reprimand him or that you have just started the observation. What is the time allowed again? Without proof of any crime? Without a hint? Twenty weeks?”

As if Malfoy was not versed in the law after having been married to Hermione for almost twenty years.

He stood. “If you won’t have an explanation by July, I’m going to make an official complaint. I really have had enough.”

Harry hoped that they would have sorted it out by then. He did not comment on Malfoy’s accusations, having learned for some time, that sometimes silence was simply the better option. Malfoy made to turn to the door.

“Is that all, Malfoy?”, he asked. “You just came here to threaten to sue the auror department? Why ask for Pansy then?”

Malfoy hesitated.

“You did ask for Pansy, didn’t you?”

Malfoy studied Harry’s face for some time, as if searching for an answer. The silence became overwhelming. Harry wondered if Malfoy had learned to use legilimency just by willpower. Whatever he saw in Harry’s eyes, he seemed to conclude something, nodded and sat down again.

“Pansy has been asking all kinds of questions,” he finally said. “I know you trust her, even though it took you long enough. I want it to be crystal clear that she has told me nothing. This is just conjecture on my part.”

“I’ve trusted Pansy for years,” Harry said.

Malfoy waved his hand, impatiently. “If we start discussing Pansy’s fight to be accepted in this department, to live down one sentence she said when she feared for her life and her family’s life, I won’t be even-tempered enough to tell you, what I learned today. Even though it might be better if I tell you and not Pansy.”

Harry pressed his lips together. He would not admit this to Malfoy of all people. Sometimes Pansy’s first years in the department haunted him.

“As Weasel observed so aptly, I was at a funeral today.” He brushed the hair from his face. There suddenly was a strain around his eyes. “The worst kind of funeral. It was a child, 10 years old.”

Harry thought of his own daughter Lily, who was ten, and felt a surge of pity for the parents. One of Malfoy’s was about the same age he knew. He suddenly felt an odd understanding for the other man. Malfoy must know about Pansy’s infertility.

“I don’t know how to put this,” he sighed. “My partner Malcolm, he is a man, whom people trust. It is as if he has a sign on his face. ‘Tell me everything that gives you grief and worries you’. He is a great listener.”

“The child’s grandma,” Malfoy continued. “She told some stories about the girl. I might have missed it, if Pansy had not talked about muggleborns with my wife for weeks now. How to find them prior to their 11th birthday, and how late they come into wizarding society.”

Harry nodded. This was one of Hermione’s projects, but in difference to werewolves, goblins and elves, her remonstrations to the wizengamot had not been successful yet in that regard. Prejudices against muggleborns were still a problem.

“Anyway, I think it is highly likely that the child had magic.”

That made Harry sit up.

“And she died of an undiagnosed mysterious illness.”

Harry’s ears pricked. “A curse,” he said.

Malfoy stood again and put a small card on the desk. “This is the address. I would suggest you spend your time investigating that. And just for the record. I didn’t know the family before they booked Fortescue and Miller a week ago.”

Harry took up the card and let it vanish in his pocket. “Thank you, Malfoy,” he said. This might be the first lead in weeks.

“You can stuff your thanks up your arse, Potter,” Malfoy answered. “If you feel gratitude call back your bloodhounds.”

He opened the door, not bothering to say goodbye. Not that Harry minded.

“Ah, Weasel, still here, I see.” Harry heard him say.

Harry jumped up, swearing under his breath. He needed to make sure, they would not come to blows.

When he reached his door, he saw Ron and Malfoy facing each other, but at least Ron did let him pass.

“I hope you are a happy man today, Weasel.” Malfoy said. Harry rolled his eyes, but Ron had himself under control even if he balled his fists. Why could the man not stop his provoking tongue just once?

The door to the department opened and Baxter entered. He had a hurried look about him and his eyes widened when he saw Malfoy. A flush entered his cheeks. And well it should. It must be embarrassing to suddenly stand face to face to the object of observation after having lost said object.

Malfoy turned around and waved at Harry.

“Care to introduce your subordinate, who is so inept at tailing?”, he called.

He gave a mock bow to Baxter. “As you probably know my name is Draco Malfoy. I certainly hope I won’t see you again in the foreseeable future.”

Harry waited until Malfoy had left before he barked at Baxter to join him in his office. He had wanted word to get out that Malfoy was observed, but not at this time in his investigation and not with the whole department as witness. He knew that Baxter was brilliant in analysis and bad at fieldwork, and he had counted on him being detected but not that early. Harry wondered who of his people would tell Pansy. That would hopefully be a clue for the leak in the department.


	37. Saving Muggles (April 25, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape tries to save a middle-aged muggle couple that came into Voldemort's clutches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shout out to @marydri who helped me sort out the magic in this chapter, so that it would fit with the rest of the timeline....  
> It is canon that Snape tried to save muggles ever since he decided to betray Voldemort at least when it would not compromise his position at Voldemort's side.  
> Thanks to everyone who comments, kudos and subscribes.  
> Writing this fic is so much fun and I'm always glad when people enjoy it.

**(Severus Snape’s memories, as found September 2002)**

Voldemort studied Hermione’s parents who stood shuddering in his presence with his red eyes. He stroked the elder wand he held in his hand.

“ _Legilimens_.” He raised his wand. The middle-aged couple in front of him squirmed under the might of his spell.

“The mudblood has been quite thorough,” he summed up. “They have no memory whatsoever about her daughter. They believe that their names are Monica and Wendell Wilkins and that they always wanted to move to Australia.”

”It is just as Draco observed last summer. They left even before Potter went into hiding.” Snape stated.

“We can break through. Prolonged exposure to the _cruciatus_ will break the walls of their tempered memories.” Bellatrix seemed eager to start.

“And it might well leave them imbecile shells.” Snape shrugged. “I doubt you would find anything useful anyway.”

“Why not?” Bellatrix asked. “You are such a sissy, Severus.”

“I never hid the fact, that I do not share your eagerness for the _cruciatus_ , Bellatrix,” His eyes wandered over her with disdain.

“It should be obvious. Granger tempered with her parents’ memories to protect them, not to hide her own plans. She would never be so stupid as to entrust her muggle parents with her plans. And even if she did, and we find her plans somewhere in her parents’ memories, they would only know where she intended to go last summer. That would not help us finding her now. They must have been hopping from one safe untraceable place to another for months now.”

“What do you suggest then, Severus?” Voldemort asked.

“I am sure, you thought about that, my Lord. Keep them, use them as a leverage when the mudblood turns up. Use them to aim at Potter through her.” Snape’s voice was devoid of emotion. “Let Bella have some fun with them, just not too much.”

Voldemort’s laugh held no joy. “As if Bella had deserved a reward. No fun for her. Where to keep them, though?”

Lucius Malfoy spoke up. “In our cellar, my Lord.”

Voldemort grinned, his face became even more inhuman with a gesture that could have been nice in other people.

“Listen to yourself, Lucius. You feel up to the task to hold some muggles in your cellar? In your cellar, that did not hold Harry Potter? After your wife almost ruined our chance to even get these muggles? Your wife’s passion for neatness almost destroyed our chance to find them, when she cleaned their daughter’s bloodstains from the floor.”

Lucius Malfoy slumped.

“No, no, the cellar here will not do.” Voldemort tapped with his wand on his left hand. The couple in front of him looked with horror at him. Their hands had found each other.

“Severus, you’ll take them. I trust you to be able to hold on to some muggles.”

“My Lord, I have no house elves, I am headmaster at Hogwarts, surely the Malfoys….”

Voldemort held up his wand and Snape stopped himself.

“Severus, do you think I don’t see what you are doing? You want me to forgive the Malfoys for their extraordinary failure, but you should know better than to try to manipulate my decisions. You will take them and answer me for them.”

“As you wish, my Lord. At once, my Lord.” Snape bowed and manhandled the muggle couple on his way out.

“And you, my dear Bella, will not get them, even though the mudblood’s blood on your knife was useful.” That was the last thing to be heard.

***

Hermione’s parents panted heavily with fear when they were apparated to Spinner’s End. Snape led them to a sofa at wand’s end.

“Please, sit,” he told them.

Their eyes gave away their surprise at his surprisingly friendly tone. They let themselves fall on the sofa.

“This must be a misunderstanding,” the man said. “We do not have a daughter.”

Snape sighed.

“This is a complication I could well do without,” Snape remarked. “But I promised myself that I would try my best, in every case.”

Snape opened his cupboard and fetched a bowl and poured a potion into the bowl. “Not as good as a pensieve but it will have to do.”

He put his wand to his own head and pulled out a silvery memory.

“I don’t have much time. Brace yourself. I will show you, that you do indeed have a daughter.”

He let the silvery strand descend into the bowl and on the surface of the liquid the memory came alive, not like a scene that could be entered like in a pensieve, but more like a movie that could be watched from the outside.

The memory showed the couple on their way to Platform 9 ¾ , Hermione walking in their middle, chatting happily about the excitement to go to Hogwarts.

The Grangers stared at Snape when he put his wand into the bowl and retrieved the memory.

“She does look like she could be our daughter,” Mrs Granger whispered.

Snape rummaged in the drawer of one of his cupboards. When he turned again, he held a poster in his hands. “Hermione Granger”, it read. “Undesirable no. 2.”

Mr Granger took the poster with trembling hands.

“How?”, he asked. “this is our daughter? But why don’t we remember her?”

Snape explained it all to them. He spoke in clipped tones, fast and without detail, but he didn’t leave out anything important. When he had finished, the Grangers knew that Wilkins was not their true name, that their daughter had tried to save them and had almost succeeded.

“What are you going to do with us?”

Snape gave a mirthless laugh.

“Up until now, the Dark Lord could probably believe that I told you all of this just to torture you. But I do not mean you any harm.”

Mrs Granger had clutched the poster with her daughter’s face so hard that it almost crumpled. Her eyes were moist.

“Why would she do that to us? Was there no other way to protect us?”

Snape interlaced his fingers, deep in thought.

“I don’t know why the Order took no measures to protect you. It could well be, that they thought you were not important enough or that they did not have the manpower to protect you. The order has not always managed to save people, even when they tried. Maybe your daughter did not ask, maybe she was confident in her own abilities. And if your daughter had not been captured it would have been enough. It was only with her blood that the Dark Lord could trace you. He would have searched for her herself, but she’s at an untraceable place.”

He took a deep breath. “I am sorry, that I cannot answer this question. I can say for certain that the order has underestimated her importance, for Potter’s task and for his survival.”

“She was captured?” Mrs Granger asked.

“The order?” Mr Granger asked.

“She was captured but fortunately only briefly. And the Order is the Order of the Phoenix.” Snape scoffed. “The light side of the magic. The good side you could say. At least after a fashion. Apparently not, when it comes to protecting muggle relations of people other than the chosen one.”

He smiled without real warmth. “I had the means to observe your daughter for some months and I can assure you that she is a resourceful and resilient witch.”

“Which side are you on?” the couple asked.

“I’m on the side that wants the Dark Lord dead.”

“The Dark Lord?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I am certain you can guess who that was.”

“The evil wizard. He picked our brains.” Mrs Granger shuddered. “It was horrid.”

“Why tell us? When he reads our minds again…. I am sure he would not want you to help us.” Mr Granger’s eyes were wide open with fear.

“Because I will obviously remove this conversation from your brains.” Snape stood. “You will feel compelled to return to my house here as long as nothing happens. But you can buy food, cook, everything. I’ll leave you money.”

Snape shrugged and did not relent in the face of the Grangers obvious anxiety. “I know it’s not much of a house but better than living on the streets.”

“You will remember this conversation, if I die. Then that happens you must leave immediately. You should be safe enough if your daughter does not fall again into the Dark Lord’s hands. Thanks to Narcissa Malfoy’s neatness, he does not have the means to search for you any longer. And I will try to inform someone else who cares about your whereabouts. But I can’t promise anything.”

He began to wave his wand, casting his spell wordlessly as was his habit.

“Do not, under any circumstances, look for your daughter. If the Dark Lord falls, no, when the Dark Lord falls, his name may be spoken again. When you hear that name spoken out loud, you may begin to look for your daughter and resume your old life. I’ll let you remember this.”

The faces of Hermione’s parents changed from frightened to slack under the movements of Snape’s wand.

Snape reached out with his right hand and shook both their hands. “Mrs Wilkins, Mr Wilkins. I wish you a good day. That was the best I could do. I hope it will turn out to be enough.”

He turned to leave the house, while Mrs Granger carefully smoothed out the poster with Hermione’s face.


	38. The figurine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Pansy do some sleuthing and might get closer to what is behind the attack on muggleborns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might as well admit that this fic is also a murder mystery....   
> We learn a bit more about how muggleborns are found, but the why is still a mystery.

Harry and Pansy had introduced themselves as Muggle doctors who did research on rare illnesses. The Northam family had led them into the house and had been very willing to answer questions. As Mrs Northam explained Pansy, they would do anything to help learn more about the mysterious illness that took their daughter’s life. The Northams looked forlorn and Harry had difficulties keeping his professional distance. There were photos of happier times in the living room and the two younger siblings were subdued as children should not be.

Pansy took notes with a muggle pen.

“This might look like a strange question to you,” Harry said. “But could you please tell us if you realised anything unusual apart from Emma’s bodily constitution.”

“What do you mean?”, Mrs Northam asked.

“We are looking into the mental and psychological aspects and we would like to know, if you realised anything unusual like a vivid imagination, seeing things, hearing voices… anything.”

“Emma told us some wild tales,” Mr Northam mused. “In her head, she had magical talent. You know how children are nowadays. With all the fantasy books. She insisted that her little owl figurine became animate, when she was alone.”

“She would go outside and throw paper birds around her and would pretend that they had real wings and flatter around her,” his wife said. Her voice was shaky.

Unbidden, a memory flooded into Harry’s brain, not his own memory, but the memory of Severus Snape, the memory how Lily Evans had charmed flowers and petals to fly around her.

Mr Northam handed a tissue to his wife. “Children have such a vivid imagination.” His own voice trembled as well. “And that owl is very detailed and accurate.” He pointed at the little figurine that stood just beside the photo of a laughing dark-haired child.

Pansy stood and examined the figurine. Harry itched to have a closer look as well, but it might make the Northams suspicious. Pansy gave him a look that clearly told him to provide a diversion.

It was time to follow his guts.

“Did you realise that these imaginary playing changed, when Emma became ill?”

That question had the parents focus on him.

“Now, that you mention it,” Mrs Northam mused. “Just before her death, Emma was in tears, telling us that she had lost it. That her paper birds would not fly any longer.”

Harry felt as if someone had poured ice down his neck.

He nodded gravely to stay in character. “That fits with our theory about the mental and psychological effects.”

He had prepared for this by reading muggle articles on rare illnesses, so that he would have some absurd vocabulary. Fortunately, neither of the Northams were academics. Harry would never have been able to pull it off with someone who had an idea about medicine.

He risked a glance at Pansy who nodded shortly. There was still a little intricate owl sitting beside Emma’s photo, but Harry was sure, Pansy had made some sort of swap. The sugarbowl Mrs Northam had put on the table looked as if a substantial number of cubes had vanished.

“I am really so sorry for your loss,” Pansy remarked. “She looks like such a lovely girl.”

She did indeed. Her laughter on the photo was nice, lively and of the contagious sort. Emma waved at whoever had taken that photo, the silver bracelet on her arm sparkling in the sun.

Mrs Northam blew her nose and her husband laid an arm around her.

Harry could see the moisture in Pansy’s eyes.

“Thank you very much for your help, Mr and Mrs Northam,” Harry said. “Your help is much appreciated all the more because it must have been so hard for you. It is so difficult to find words. I know that I cannot fathom what you suffer.”

“If we can help research on this malicious illness, we can perhaps prevent other children to suffer the same.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Pansy said.

***

After saying goodbye to the Northams they portkeyed back to the office. They sat in silence for a while. Harry had made tea because a hot drink always helped.

Finally, Pansy opened her bag, and pulled out the little owl figurine. It was wrapped in a piece of cloth.

Harry reached out, but Pansy clapped her hand over his.

“Don’t touch it,” she snapped.

“Why?”, Harry asked.

“Just a hunch. I saw a figurine like that in the shop Fawley visited, the day I followed him.”

She carefully handled the figurine with the cloth.

“I think there is a spell on it.”

She waved her wand and two thin fingers of turquoise and dirty yellow smoke rose from the figurine, intertwining on their way up.

“Two spells,” Harry observed. “The dirty yellow one could be a message spell.”

“And we don’t want to trigger that.” Pansy agreed. “We don’t want to alert them that we are investigating.”

She turned the figurine around, and Harry pointed at a hole at the bottom. The hole was closed with a plastic or rubber stopper.

“Try that.”

Pansy carefully peeled the stopper out, still not touching it with her bare hands. When she waved her wand again, the tendrils of smoke became separate, the turquoise one whirling around the figurine, the yellow one around the stopper.

They smiled at each other. Harry fetched a jar, levitated the stopper and put it into the jar.

“Maybe we’ll be able to find out where the message goes. The figurine can’t hold a malicious curse. The Northams were unaffected.”

“Be ready,” Harry said. “I am going to touch it.”

Harry put his finger on the little owl and the figurine moved. The owl blinked, stretched its wings and looked like it was about to hoot. When Harry withdrew his finger, the owl immediately went rigid again in the same posture she had had before.

“Does it react to touch?”, Pansy wondered. She touched the owl herself and the figurine came alive again.

She shook her head, correcting herself. “No, it can’t be. The Northams would have realised that.”

“Why does it react?” Harry wondered.

“We have to test. My assumption is that it reacts to the magic in us. When a muggle touches it, nothing happens, but a muggleborn?”

“And if a child with magic touches it, it becomes animate.”

“And somebody gets an alert.” Pansy concluded.

“Somebody gets an alert.” Harry shuddered. “And then…. “

“A curse is applied. And in Emma’s case it wasn’t just an easy bruising spell.”

Pansy banged her fist on Harry’s desk. “Bastards,” she shouted. “I’ll get them and if it’s the last thing I do.”

Harry laid his hands on her fist. “We’ll get them. I promise.”

He wondered who else he could put on this case. He still did not know whom to trust in this. He found himself missing Neville.

Pansy was breathing hard. Harry could see that she fought for control.

“Pansy, you look into what exactly triggers the figurine, the working assumption is that it might be magic in wizards and witches. I’ll be working on finding out what kind of curse they put on Emma. And I’ll set someone on trying to find out who gets alerted.”

“Fawley must be observed more closely. He bought similar figurines at that muggle shop.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll appoint someone trustworthy.” _Who, though? Who?_ Harry immediately thought of Teddy. He trusted Teddy, but he did not want to put Teddy at risk. And people who cursed children certainly had no scruples.

“Are you sure, you want to look into the curse?”

“It reminds me of another case. I have an idea.” Harry answered.

“I could prepare some of the figurines in that shop, so that we can track them. What they can do, we can do as well.”

“Do not prepare the figurines. The risk is too great, they might realise we tempered with them. Maybe the wrappings?”

Pansy nodded. “O.k., boss.” She took a deep breath, calming herself.

***

When Pansy had taken off, Harry went down into the memory vaults to check his own theory. The memory vault held memories of hundreds of cases. Memories of observations would be put there for a while, so that the aurors could forget them, if they wanted to, sometimes memories were stored for cold cases. Memories could be tempered with and they could be altered unintentionally, and they were only admissible in court under certain circumstances. Harry shook his head when he thought about Slughorn’s memory he had hunted for so many months in his sixth year. That had been altered so clumsily! Since then he had come across much more deftly altered memories.

Harry had never regretted installing the memory vault. Looking at some events from different perspectives had helped in more than one case. Now, he wanted to look at a very particular memory, that he had deliberately misfiled under a small theft case from 2001.

There was a spell that could syphon magic from one person to another. If he remembered correctly this spell worked only for a time, a ‘potentially dark spell’. But a _scutum_ only worked for short time as well, and Snape had somehow managed to make it last. What if this transferring spell could be applied permanently? What if someone had found Snape’s carrier? What if Emma had been drained of her magic until she had lost her life?

The witch who had the task of handing out memories today was not very diligent. She was about to leave and instead of fetching her books and handing out the boxes with the vials, she just told Harry to look for what he needed on his own. At any other time, Harry would have scolded her. It didn’t matter that he was head auror. He should have to sign in like everyone else. But he kept his indignation to himself. Somebody might wonder why he was looking into a theft from 2001.

He went down the aisles and took a ladder, knowing that the one box he needed was well out of his reach and he dared not levitate the fragile vials. He had to sneeze because of the dust and saw his own footprints on the floor. He climbed the ladder and snagged the box that said “Major, December 18, 2001”.

He opened the box, and his breath hitched. The vial was gone.


	39. The Room of Hidden Things (May 2, 1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and Hermione search for the Ravenclaw diadem in the Room of Hidden Things, and Hermione chances upon Draco who finally has an opportunity to fetch the Phoenix Potion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this chapter, I re-read the relevant chapter in TDH and I was actually quite astonished, how easy it is to bend canon.  
> If you try to discard Harry's POV and just look at what Draco says, it can all be interpreted in a different way, namely Crabbe and Goyle trying to kill or captivate Harry and Draco trying to help Harry without antagonizing Crabbe and Goyle.  
> I don't think that JKR wrote it that ambiguous on purpose, but it is interesting that you just have to change POV and assume Draco is a double agent and then the whole scene has quite a different look.  
> So, in the end, I've bent canon far less than I thought I had to....

“Let’s split up, we’ll never find the diadem in this jumble otherwise,” Harry shouted.

Hermione nodded and they all darted in three different directions. Hermione’s breath was uneven. They had successfully robbed Gringotts, and Ron and she had found the basilisk’s teeth and destroyed the cup. Now the diadem.

She stopped a moment to calm down. She recalled the long rows of students that had stood in the Great Hall back into her memory. Draco had not been among them. Professor McGonagall had brought all the students who could not fight or would not fight to safety. But Draco had not been among them. Was he dead? Had he died already, a victim of Voldemort’s wrath?

Hermione chided herself. She had sworn to herself that she would see this through. They needed to defeat Voldemort and **then** she could look for Draco and sort out whatever this was, this string between them. Afterwards, afterwards, then there would be time to sort out what had happened at Malfoy Manor.

She forced herself to look along the rows of shelves that held the treasures and garbage of generations and searched for the diadem. In the distance she thought she could hear the soft footsteps of Harry and Ron. She took a shuddering breath. She was overtired and her imagination ran wild. She thought she heard a rustling sound.

She rounded a corner and ran into the green door of a cupboard that stood open. She gasped and when the door swung shut, she stood eye in eye with Draco.

He held a bag in his hands and Hermione saw that it was filled with vials.

Their eyes locked for a long moment. Hermione forgot that she was supposed to look for the diadem. She stopped thinking for a moment, her emotions overwhelming her.

“Granger,” he breathed, just as she whispered his name.

“You’re alive,” they said in unison.

Suddenly, she felt her eyes moisten. He lived. Voldemort had not killed him. Somehow, he had survived the anger that must have followed their escape.

He took her arm and pulled her closer.

“I did not dare to hope,” he told her. “Did it even work? Did she hurt you?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, you protected me.”

Somehow, they had closed in, edging toward each other, so that their bodies touched, and their breath mingled. His gaze never left hers. She had to crane her neck to look up to him.

“Hermione,” he whispered. His left hand wandered to her neck and he buried his hand in her hair. He pulled her closer and then his lips crashed on hers. It was a desperate kiss, deep and passionate, a mixture of relief, hope, defiance, and desperation, as if they had to press all the abundance of feelings into these few minutes. Her blood rushed in her veins, she felt as if she were drowning, his body the only lifeline that kept her aloft.

He broke the kiss, and she stood with her lips parted. She could hear him sucking in air.

“Close your mouth, just for a moment,” he said.

She had lost all orientation, but snapped her mouth shut. Draco took one vial out of his bag and smashed it on her neck. She felt a cool, pleasant liquid run down her body for the quarter of a second, before it evaporated in thin white lines of fume. Draco slung the bag over his back and fastened it.

Draco smiled. “Phoenix Potion. It will keep you safe for six hours.”

He bent down again, hungrily searching her lips.

“Hold it, Potter”, Hermione heard someone say.

They sprang apart. Draco cursed. “That’s Crabbe and probably Goyle. How did they get here? I really don’t need these idiots now!”

He sprinted into the direction of the voice and outran Hermione quickly with his longer legs.

“That’s my wand you’re holding, Potter”, she heard Draco say.

“Not any longer,” Harry answered. “Winners, keepers.”

Draco snarled.

“How did you get here?” Harry asked.

“I practically lived here for the last two years,” Draco answered.

Hermione skidded to a halt, trying to sneak behind Crabbe’s back.

“We was hiding in the corridor outside. Can do Dis-lussions charms now,” Crabbe said. “And then you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum. What’s a die-dum?”

Ron was shouting for Harry, and Crabbe cast a spell to cut Ron off. A flood of things spouted into the aisle where Ron stood.

Harry cast a _Finite_ spell to stop Crabbe, and Draco’s hand shot out at Crabbe’s wandarm.

“If you wreck this room, you might bury this diadem thing.”

Crabbe tugged himself free. “What’s that matter. It’s Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum.”

“Potter came here to get it. So that must mean…“ Draco began to argue with him.

“’Must mean’”, Crabbe sneered. “Who cares what you think? I don’t take your orders no more, Draco, you an’ your dad are finished.”

Then everything happened incredibly fast. Ron shouted for Harry, Harry tried to jump at the diadem, that sat on a bust atop of a huge pile of jumble, Crabbe tried to cast the _cruciatus_ at Harry. Hermione fired a stunning curse at Crabbe, but missed by inches, because Draco had pushed at Crabbe to misdirect his curses.

“Don’t kill him, STOP,” Draco shouted, his voice almost toppling over. “The Dark Lord wants him alive.”

Crabbe rounded on her. He had noticed the stunning curse.

“The Mudblood,” he shouted. “ _Adava kedavra._ ”

Hermione dived but could have sworn the curse hit her. She heard a tiny spattering noise. Draco’s potion seemed to work. Hers and Draco’s eyes met for the tiny fracture of a moment. She panted in fear.

“Don’t kill him. Don’t kill him,” Draco yelled again, when Crabbe aimed his wand at Harry again, and tried to tackle him. The bulky Crabbe pushed Draco of him and set him and his wand flying.

Goyle appeared from another aisle, Ron in pursuit. Crabbe aimed at Ron and cast the killing curse again. Ron ducked.

“ _Expelliarmus_ ,” Harry yelled, and Goyle’s wand fell into his hand.

Crabbe’s face distorted in anger, and he began to cast another spell that made Hermione’s hackles rise.

The fire that spouted from Crabbe’s wand was not normal fire, it was like a living ravenous beast, growing heads that consumed everything close in a terrible hunger, a hunger that ached to devour living beings.

Crabbe tried to leash the fire with his wand to do his bidding, but to no avail. When he fell into the jaws of a particularly nasty looking dragon, all thought of fighting fled them, and they all ran from the fire. For a brief moment, Hermione’s hand found Draco’s. She was determined to not let go, but they were separated when one of the piles came down sliding.

When the flaming beasts had Hermione, Ron and Harry almost cornered, they chanced upon brooms, Harry swung his legs over one broom and Ron took Hermione on his. They barely escaped the flames that snapped at them with relentless hunger.

“Draco,” Hermione shouted, “Goyle, we have to find them.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Ron shouted. “Let’s get out. The door, the door.”

Hermione tried to steer the broom just above the flames, looking for Draco.

“What are you doing?” Ron demanded, trying to get control of the broom.

“The diadem,” Harry shouted and dived, hands on his glasses to peer into the smoke.

Draco stood on a pile of rubbish, supporting Goyle with one hand, the diadem in his other.

Hermione flicked her wand and levitated Goyle on their broom, while Harry snatched Draco in the middle, the hand with the diadem dangling behind.

They raced to the door, and made it out at the last moment, the fiery beasts licking at their heels. The brooms collided with the wall on the other side of the door and they all fell off. Hermione landed safely on the enormous form of Goyle who had been hit on his head and lay unmoving. Ron had managed to brace his fall with his knees.

Draco lay on his side, trying to force air into his lungs amidst heavy coughing. His left arm stuck out, the sleeve half burned off, the dark mark clearly visible amidst what looked like heavy burns. Harry had landed on his bum.

Hermione’s gaze fell on the diadem that had fallen out of Draco’s hand to the floor. It looked unblemished, as if the flames had not touched it, but suddenly remnants of fiendfyre danced just under the surface of the diadem and all of a sudden it dissolved into smoke, leaving a feeling of taint and most foul dark magic that Hermione recognized. A horcrux was destroyed.

“What was that?”, Draco asked, his eyes widened in fear and disgust.

“A horcrux,” Hermione whispered.

“Now, it is just the snake,” she shouted triumphantly. “It is just the snake.”

She picked herself up and not a moment too early. While they had been searching the diadem, the fighting had gone on and they could hear fighters coming closer.

Harry shouted in defiance, and ran towards the fight, wand at the ready, Ron followed on his heels. Hermione bent down to Draco.

Draco had begun to hold his left arm, whimpering, curling up in pain.

“Not now, please not now. I don’t want….”

She untangled his right hand from where he clutched his mark and helped him up. She kissed the knuckles of his right hand trying to distract him from the pain.

Hermione put her mouth to his ears. “You have no wand,” she whispered. “Please, hide, save yourself. We just have to kill the snake now, and then Voldemort can die. Defy his call.”

His gaze was bewildered. Hermione thought at first, that he might be too much in pain by the Dark Lord’s call, but then he nodded. He opened his bag and gave Hermione some of the vials.

“Just in case, remember to pour it over yourself after six hours. Just don’t swallow it. That will stop your magic. Do what you have to do.”

Hermione held his gaze for a short moment, trying to give him confidence.

“I’ll just try to help with these, save some lives. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

She pressed his hand for an all too short moment, turned and ran after Harry and Ron.


	40. Wrackspurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Luna chase after occamies and try to wrestle wrackspurts.

It was not the first time that Hermione praised Pansy silently in her thoughts after a long day. The slippers she wore looked nice, and Pansy’s ‘feels like barefoot’ charm in combination with a ‘stick to feet’ charm meant that her feet did not ache after a long day and there was no chance of her losing her shoes.

She was knackered, however, after a long day searching around London with Luna for possible hiding places for occamies. The _querio_ charm was exhausting, and she had the feeling that Luna was even more unfocused than usual. She had a nervous look about her and Hermione just knew that it was not just her usual lack of focus. She wondered if that was the reason why casting the _querio_ spell together had been so difficult and tiring all afternoon.

She still did not know exactly how Luna had persuaded her to join her on this chase after her working hours. Luna had told her that Harry was busy with a murder case. Hermione suspected that Harry had not put that much effort into the occamy smuggling even before the new case came up. She did not voice that thought aloud, though. She was forty after all, not sixteen, and she had learned by now, that it was not always socially acceptable to voice inconvenient truths. Unless you were Luna Zabini and managed to clad your criticism into pointing out the existence of wrackspurts.

After having cast what felt like the hundredth detecting spell, she told Luna that she had enough.

“I want to read to Robert. If I continue to not come home in time, he won’t even recognize my voice. And I am tired, and my mind is numb. I think we need a different approach.”

Luna tapped her lip with her wand. “I guess you’re right. We should have found something by now…. It is just, that the lack of evidence suggests that they placed the occamies under wards and that worries me so much. It should not be possible. Occamies just don’t react well to wards that make an area untraceable. They must have found a way to trick the occamies into feeling at home.”

Her forehead showed a deep frown. “We should probably look for places where the habitat of the occamies can be imitated.”

Hermione hugged her friend. “We both ponder this problem and talk again. I know, you want to get behind that, but we are too tired by now.”

“I really wish, more people would see that this is a problem. Occamies are substantial for the magical balance in India, and this … “, she stopped herself.

“I know, I don’t need to tell you that.” She looked uncharacteristically contrite.

Luna chewed her lips in thought and opened her mouth several times, before she finally admitted: “There is something, I have to tell you, Hermione.”

Now she would learn what had occupied Luna’s thoughts. “What is it?”, she asked.

Luna’s big blue eyes focussed on her. “I don’t even know how to tell you without attracting wrackspurts.”

“I’ll handle some wrackspurts, Luna. I am not going to go off on you.”

She had long given up insisting that wrackspurts did not exist. Somehow, they had become a natural part of conversations with Luna. Blaming them was admittedly even convenient once and again. Occasionally she even caught herself at naming wrackspurts as the culprits when Luna was **not** there.

“You know, how I wanted to do a little party for Penny’s birthday? Invite Lizzie and Meg, just at the start of the Easter break? So that Rachel is there as well? And that Colin can come?”

“We’ve already saved the date. And I have a splendid idea for my goddaughter. If you want to do your usual ‘parents can tag along’ I must disappoint you though. I am invited to an international conference on Goblins and their rights to wands in Geneva. Draco could come, but he would have to bring Robert.”

Luna looked positively unhappy.

Hermione touched Luna’s shoulder. “The only wrackspurts I see are around you. What is it Luna?”

Luna shook her hands, stretching her fingers as if she wanted to make her imaginary wrackspurts jump away from her.

“It’s Ron. You know, he stays with Harry at Grimmauld, and I was over there for tea, the day before yesterday, and we talked about the party, and how Penny wants Lily to come, and he….” She chewed her lips again.

“He sort of invited himself?”, Hermione guessed.

“I wish that I had focussed for once…. I should have just talked it over with Ginny alone.” Luna closed her eyes a fraction longer than her usual slow blink.

“Since Ron is back from the states, it has been such a nuisance. It has warped all our routines of how to…” She let her words trail off.

“… navigate the waters between your different set of friends.” Hermione finished the sentence for her.

“What you mean is that Richard and James will come with Lily and that Harry, Ginny and Ron will probably tag along to play a little Quidditch in your wonderful garden.” Hermione tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Luna nodded, looking downcast.

Hermione pursed her lips. “I’ll just ask Rina to drop Meg and Lizzie with you then. That should work.”

She kicked at a small pebble and observed it bouncing along the street. She wondered not for the first time, how Draco’s trial still had an impact on their lives. If there had been a way for her to at least salvage her friendship with Harry. There had been no chance to save her friendship to Ron, not when she had practically dumped him at the proverbial altar.

With Harry it might have been different. She had told herself several times that it had been Harry’s fault, but after twenty years of sitting in trials, defending and working on new laws for the wizengamot, she knew that placing blame was often not that easy and that she should probably admit, even if only to herself, that she had played a part. She still would have decided to act the same, though. She could not regret keeping Draco out of Azkaban, especially not at a time they still had dementors there.

Luna took her hand. “Rachel would love for Colin to come. Me as well. You know we love him.”

“Luna, your house is usually a safe place for Colin. It’s his decision.” She pressed her friend’s hand in return. It was not Luna’s fault. Dear Luna. Hermione would never forget that Luna and Blaise had been there for her, when she and Rina had come down with Dragon Pox, when it had really counted.

In a day or two she probably could picture Luna’s surprised look at being cornered into an invitation and laugh about it.

“We’ll just do our usual routine of ‘avoiding the Weasleys and Potters’ and you and Blaise and the children can all come over for luncheon the day after.” She smiled and hoped that Luna would not remark on the brittleness of her smile.

Luna bit her lips. She probably tried to refrain from remarking that Hermione was struggling with the wrackspurts after all.

“Don’t make such a face, Luna. This is not the first time, we did this. Since Ron comes anyway you can invite some more Weasleys, get them all over to your place in one go.” There, that had sounded almost as if she meant it. As if she did not wish that Ron would have just stayed in the states, safely far away, where she could benevolently wish him to be happy without having to deal with him and his presence.

“Blaise won’t be too happy about an all Gryffindor event.” Luna chipped in.

“Ha,” Hermione contradicted. “He’ll tease them relentlessly, will get a rile out of them and will be thoroughly amused.”

“Hmm.” Luna answered, as if she seriously doubted this.

“You can invite Pansy to get some Slytherin backup for Blaise, just in case.” Not that Blaise needed it. And Neville would probably count as a Gryffindor.

“I am so sorry, Hermione, the last weeks really felt like a regress.” Luna sighed. “We had it sorted out so well. We never had to be careful like that with just Harry.”

“That’s because Harry doesn’t throw his fist into Draco’s face, the moment he sees him,” Hermione sulked.

“Ginny, you and I will manage to adapt our routines and we’ll beat the wrackspurts. They never shall conquer us.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hermione had to smile despite her sour mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got a little out of hand, simply because I wanted to include at least some headcanons about Luna and Blaise.... and Luna is always a delight to write.


	41. The Battle of Hogwarts (May 2,1998)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tries to survive the battle....

Draco broke one of the vials over Gregory, and one over himself, and then he took Gregory’s wand. He carried the bulky form of his classmate to the side of the corridor. If Gregory were lucky, he would only wake up when this was all over, or at least the battle that raged in Hogwarts.

He felt dazed. Potter again. Almost getting himself killed, and by Crabbe of all people. Draco shuddered. Horcruxes. Even the word sounded evil. He wondered what it was. Something that prevented the death of the Dark Lord if he had understood correctly. _‘Just the snake’_. Draco certainly would not grieve, if that ghastly snake got killed.

Fiendfyre. He looked at his left badly burnt arm. The pain was almost enough to mask the pain of the Dark Lord’s call. Draco waved the borrowed wand over his arm to do a healing spell. It cooled the burned places, but the burned skin still stood out in an irritated red.

He wondered if it would be enough of an excuse to ignore the Dark Lord’s calling. Maybe it was for the best, that he could not heal his arm completely. Gregory’s wand did not respond well. His mother’s wand, given willingly, had been much better.

Such a shame that Potter had his wand. Severus had told him he should try to get his wand back, or was it the other way round? Draco did not remember, either because he had been feverish or because he had stored that away. To demand his wand back might not have been the best of approaches to Potter, but it had been the first thing to come to his mind that would not make Crabbe suspicious. Crabbe. Dead. He shuddered.

With a wand that barely worked, he would have to lie low, just as Hermione had suggested. He would try a disillusionment charm and maybe he could indeed save some lives from the side lines. He was pondering possible actions, when he almost ran into a death eater who was alone on the corridor.

At first, he froze in place, but then he remembered that he was supposedly on their side. He grovelled and showed his mark, hoping that would be enough. In that moment he did not even remember that he had doused himself with Phoenix Potion. The death eater snarled and seemed not convinced. Draco never learned what his intent was. His opponent was hit by a stunning spell, that came out of nowhere and then he himself got punched out of thin air.

His mind reeled, but he managed to stay conscious. He looked around but saw nobody. He quickly cast a disillusionment charm. It was far from perfect, but he might be able to escape notice. He made his way to the classroom, where he had begun to brew the next batch of Phoenix Potion. He barely managed to enter with Gregory’s wand. He concentrated so hard on getting through the wards, that he was completely taken aback, when he heard the Dark Lord’s voice announcing a truce of two hours, challenging Potter to turn himself in. Draco shook his head. Even Potter would not be that stupid.

Briefly he wondered if he should have had doused Potter with the potion. He doubted Potter would have accepted it with the same trust as Hermione. Draco chuckled briefly when he tried to picture Potter’s indignant face. He probably would have thought that Draco had attacked him.

Draco looked with a sceptical eye at the new batch of the potion. He would have to try. He called Prudy with his ring.

It turned out to be of no use. The new batch of potion was not ready, and Prudy reacted to the tickling spell. He had told Severus, that he would need a fortnight, and his estimation had been right.

“What shall I do now,” he asked Prudy. “In two hours, the battle will start again…. At least I managed to get the vials from the Room of Hidden Things.”

When he had planned with Severus, he had not thought that Potter would render all his plans useless. Severus had been driven out and because Potter was here, Voldemort was bent on battle. And if he won, he probably would not want to drink Draco’s potion.

Draco wrote down the last two steps that were left to finish the potion. Then he grabbed the book with his notes. It would be best to hide it. He told Prudy to stay and hurried to the library which was empty. A book was best hidden among other books. He took a cover from a book on house elves, duplicated it, changed its colour and applied it to his notes. Nobody would ever read this. And he had written code as well. He had to do the spells three times in a row to have any effect and groaned in frustration. He waved Gregory’s wand to distribute the dust. It would not do, if someone would notice that the books had been disturbed.

He went to the classroom again and took out the memory of where he had put the book. It was a strain. He did not dare reopen the vial that held his other memories, because he was not sure, if he could even cast a proper _scutum_ with Gregory’s wand. Therefore, he took a glass of his makeshift potions lab and put the memory there. The memory looked greyish and not silver and Draco wondered if he had done something wrong. Was it the wand that did not obey him? Or maybe he had stored away memories too often? All his choices seemed bad in a way. He was between a rock and a hard place, had been for more than a year.

His gaze fell on his family ring and his breath was knocked right out of his lungs. The ring had turned pitch black. Severus Snape, his only ally was dead.

***

Draco had sat on the floor for what felt like hours, his head on his knees, Prudy his only companion. The little elf had laid her hand on Draco’s shoulder, but there was little comfort. Draco’s thoughts were whirling, he was looking for a solution. Could he persuade the Dark Lord to try the potion? If he came to Hogwarts as a victor as would certainly be the case?

When he finally stood up, he looked out of the window. His heart dropped in anguish, when he saw a group of black clad people who could only be death eaters advance to the castle. Draco thought he recognised the Dark Lord, the snake by his side. Somehow that big oaf, Hagrid slowly made his way towards the castle. On his arms was a bundle that looked like a child in his arms. But the enormous height of the half-giant probably meant that it was not a child, but a man. Draco felt the last and tiny shred of hope leaving his body.

“All is lost,” he whispered to Prudy. He tore at his hair, desperation took hold of him. The Dark Lord’s new world was about to rise, and it was a world that was not worth living in, not for muggleborns, not for purebloods, not for any decent human being. He might as well go out and die now. If he died, there was a slim chance that the Dark Lord would not suspect his treason, that his mother might be spared. All the Phoenix Potion in the world would not save Hermione though. It was only a matter of time until she was as dead as Potter.

Draco saw splashes on the floor and touched his cheeks in wonder. He had not realised that he cried.

“Prudy,” he called out. She was his only friend now, if a servant even could be a friend. He took one of the Phoenix Potion vials.

“Here, Prudy,” he shoved the vial into her hands. “Protect yourself.”

He took of the green and silver tie that was part of his school uniform. The elf stared at him with wide eyes, that reminded Draco of deep wood ponds filled with clear water.

“Stay low, Prudy, I have one last order for you. Survive, just survive.” He put the tie around Prudy’s neck.

He went out of the classroom then, not caring about renewing the wards. He felt like he was on his way to his death. It felt like the day when he had made his walk to the Astronomy tower, only this time, he was even more certain that he would die. There was no point in living in a world, where Voldemort had won.

He did not dawdle. He knew what awaited him and just wanted it to be over. He had been living on borrowed time anyway. He wondered if a twist of fate would allow him so see Hermione one more time. Better if she was already dead, a quick death, hopefully a clean death. He regretted now that he had used the potion on her. It would only prolong the inevitable.

When he reached the Great Hall, people were still fighting. Why did they take the trouble? Didn’t they know it was all over?

It took him a few moments to register that Potter was alive. When the realisation hit him, his pace quickened. He took the bag he had still slung around his back and began throwing the potion around. He might save some lives. The vials shattered easily, and the tell-tale mist rose when they hit persons. Draco did not take the time to distinguish between friend and foe. He tried to find Hermione and at one point he thought he saw her bushy hair, but the battle roared around him and when he looked again, she was gone.

Longbottom of all people was wielding the sword of Gryffindor and looked like a fucking hero, rallying fighters behind him. The sword glittered in his hands and when he came to face the snake, he roared and cut her head off as if he were slicing through butter.

At one point he thought he saw his mother. She did not even pretend that she fought. Draco was sure she looked for him. He thought she looked up, when he called for her, but the tide of the battle swept them apart.

Draco narrowly avoided a deadly spell, that grazed him at his leg. He came face to face with his aunt whose eyes were opened wide. She looked crazier than ever and Draco ducked away, hoping his disillusion somehow held. His leg felt momentarily numb. The constant exposure to spells must have worn down the effect of the Phoenix Potion.

Potter and Voldemort duelled, and Potter taunted the Dark Lord. Potter had found out that Severus had been a double agent. So, at least his death had not been in vain.

And then Potter told Voldemort that his wand was better than the Elderwand the Dark Lord held.

Draco stood dumbfounded, when Potter explained that he held his wand, he called it out, loud and clear. “Draco Malfoy’s wand defeated the Elderwand. And I hold it now.”

The duelling was over before Draco had understood what Potter had said, and Voldemort fell.

He fell.

He fell, and finally, finally he was dead.

Draco thought he would fall himself, of relief, of exhaustion, he could not have said.

But someone pulled at him. Someone had looked through the disillusion. “Traitor,” he heard them say. “You helped Potter. You gave him your wand.”

Draco could not help himself. He laughed. He had finally been found out as a traitor but nor for something he had willingly done. Voldemort was dead, but he held a weak wand, had run out of Phoenix Potion. This was the moment he would die.

Suddenly he felt a tiny hand in his and felt the tug at his navel that meant that he had been apparated away. He heard Goyle’s wand clatter on the ground of the hall, he felt the two last vials of Phoenix Potion slip from his fingers, the moment he was pulled away.

He stood on green grass, Prudy’s hand in his, but two men had taken hold of him as well. They raised their wands.

“ _Avada_ ….”, they began… Prudy threw something on his head, that enveloped him in a sudden icy feeling that let him think that he was thrown into a place where even the memory of the sun would dissipate. He thought his head would split and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last canon-bent chapter.... This won't be the last flash-back chapter though.


	42. Pillow talk III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione comes home from the occamy chase and she realizes that there might be a long-time negative effect of Draco's scutum.

Hermione apparated home after she had said goodbye to Luna. She frowned when she saw her parents’ car in front of the house. It was a normal Tuesday, usually her parents visited on Fridays.

When she entered, Robert ran into her, laughing and giggling as her mother chased after him. Meg was sitting with her father on the sofa and he showed her a book about the evil imps named “cav” and “ity” who would try to build a house for themselves in her teeth if she did not brush them thoroughly.

Hermione picked Robert up, cuddled him and then kissed her mother on the cheek. Meg and her father waved to her.

“Where’s Draco?”, she asked, worried.

“He’s got a bout of migraine,” her mother answered. “He texted me around noon, and we came over.”

“We had just decided to have some dinner, when your little rascal here, decided to play tag,” her father said.

“We’ll prepare everything, you just go upstairs and look after Draco.”

When Hermione entered their bedroom, the curtains were drawn. Draco lay in bed, his eyes closed, a small bucket at the side of his bed. Hermione was unsure if he slept and tiptoed in.

He opened his eyes and whispered: “I’m not asleep.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”, she asked, her voice low. “I would have come. I was just wasting time with Luna on her occamy chase.”

“You know, Monica and Wendell don’t mind. They love looking after their grandchildren. And Tuesday is your long day.”

Hermione carefully seated herself at the edge of his bed. “How is it?”

“Getting better. Started this morning around noon.”

“Why didn’t you take the pills Dr Maws prescribed?”

“Because they are useless…. Not entirely. They stop the migraine, but I hate the side effects.”

He gestured around. “I know how to do this, dark room, lay still, no noise, bucket in case I throw up.”

Hermione was familiar with the scenario. It happened all too often lately.

“What side effects?” she asked.

“Don’t laugh,” Draco said.

Hermione arched a questioning eyebrow.

“Headache.”

Hermione laughed. “Sorry,” she said immediately. “I am so sorry. I know that migraine is not the same as headache.”

Draco sighed. “And a right strong one as well. If I have appointments, I do take them, to get through, but then I’m miserable and snappish.”

“Are you up to having dinner yet?”

Draco gave a minuscule shake of his head, that showed that he was not yet able to move. “No.”

Hermione carefully touched his cheek with her fingertips.

“You do get these more often,” she observed.

Draco closed his eyes, but did not answer, a sure sign that he had realised as well.

“Is it a side effect of the C.o.C.? Now, that it is so erratic?”, Hermione asked.

“Could be. Migraine is malicious enough.”

Hermione looked sharply at her husband. _“Could be”._ To her that sounded evasive. The question was if Draco was evasive by intention.

She did not believe in evading truths. “It could also be your pent-up magic.”

His silence told her all.

“You do believe so as well,” she whispered.

She felt as if a fist had clenched her heart. “Is it a danger to you?”

He leaned into her hand ever so lightly, so that she felt his cheek with her whole hand and not just her fingertips. So, she was not alone in thinking that the long-time effect of his pent-up magic might be a problem.

“You know,” she said. “Maybe we should try to find this Malfoy cousin 20 times and something removed. A new head of house could revoke the curse, couldn’t he?”

“That means poring over many old dusty volumes on family trees. Even you would not find this entertaining.”

Hermione made a face. “Certainly not, but boring has never hold me back. It is a pity we cannot use the library at the Manor. That would be the obvious starting point.”

“I assume that my mother has already started. Someone should give my mother a hint, that she should donate the books. Maybe to the Hogwarts library?”

“I could write to Headmaster Flitwick.” Hermione suggested.

“Nevillle wants me to come to Hogwarts for a day to give a demonstration of the _scutum_.” Draco frowned. “I don’t know why. Probably, a Neville plan to demonstrate house unity or something….. But I could do that and have a look at the library.”

“Why don’t we both go? We never went to the library together. That could be fun.” Hermione tried to lighten the mood.

“And there is always the chance that my mother manages to reduce the inheritance to nothing, so that the curse dies.”

“Then we still would have to find a way to get rid of the _scutum_. At least, if it is the _scutum_ that causes the problems.”

“O.t.a.a.t. One thing at a time, Granger. You go and have dinner with Monica and Wendell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who comments, bookmarks, subscribes and leaves kudos! There are several plot lines in this fic but they should all tie up nicely (or at least it does look that way in my outline).


	43. Some testimonies at the Malfoy trial (January 2002-March 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varied minutes of Draco's trial.

[defence] Mr Longbottom. You have been a rather prominent figure in the resistance at Hogwarts in your seventh year. Could you please tell your impression of Mr Malfoy in that year?

[witness] He was quite different than in sixth year. In sixth year, he had been secretive. He usually had been one of the best in class, especially in potions. His grades became worse, as if it wasn’t important. He was secretive and nervous. In seventh year, he was trying to be inconspicuous.

[defence] Could you explain what you mean by inconspicuous?

[witness] Well, Malfoy has never been inconspicuous in his school career. That is why I realised that he was off, absolutely off. Inconspicuous is not the word I would have used to describe him before seventh year, but seventh year he tried to become invisible. His disillusionment charms were superb. Sometimes, especially in DADA he would sneak out of the classroom, disillusioned, just after the Carrows had checked that everyone was present. His failure at casting the _cruciatus_ correctly was a point of mockery the Carrows revisited quite often. As if it would be a bad thing to fail at that. I don’t know if he ever even ate. Even I could see that he had become as thin as a stick.

[defence] So, what is your conclusion, Mr Longbottom

[witness] He didn’t like what the Carrows did, that’s for certain. He never outright refused them either, but he was not the only one. For many of us the pressure was too great. I hardly blame them. They would rather cast the _cruciatus_ themselves than be at the receiving end. It was cruel and entirely wrong. But Malfoy had no fun doing that, that I can tell.

***

[prosecution] Ms Lovegood, could you please tell us what happened when you, Mr Longbottom and Ms Weasley tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor?

[witness] Malfoy interrupted us. Headmaster Snape was not in his office, and we had the sword already. There was a fight. Malfoy held his ground against us, and our plan was thwarted when the Headmaster interrupted us.

[prosecution] So, Mr Malfoy’s intent was preventing you from stealing the sword for Harry Potter. Did he pursue you, observe you?

[witness] Oh, I think he wanted to talk to Snape, and that it was only an accident that he met us.

[prosecution] Why did he attack you, then?

[witness] That was probably out of habit, a reflex, you could say, from both our sides. See Malfoy, throw a hex… It happened all the time….

[prosecution] Please be precise, did Mr Malfoy want to prevent an act that was orchestrated by the resistance?

[witness] Oh, I wouldn’t say that. You know Snape was a double agent, and if Malfoy knew that, he was a double agent as well. Then it would have been just a misunderstanding within the resistance, eh? And Snape managed to give the sword to Harry Potter and it was used to destroy horcruxes, so you could say, that in the end, it helped the cause against Voldemort to prevent our theft. It depends of course entirely on the question if you believe Malfoy’s claim that he was in an understanding with Snape.

[prosecution] You were a prisoner in Malfoy manor for months. Wouldn’t you say that his paints Mr Malfoy in a bad light?

[defence] objection

[judge] sustained, rephrase your question.

[prosecution] Did you see Mr Draco Malfoy in your time at the Manor?

[witness] No, and honestly, I don’t see how I could have seen him. He was at school. I doubt he even knew who was in the cellar. (taps her lips in thought) Prudy knew of course.

[prosecution] So Draco Malfoy’s very personal elf knew you were a prisoner?

[witness] Yes, of course Prudy knew. She was the elf who smuggled more food to us. (smiles). So logically speaking, Draco might have known I was there. Or Prudy did this of her own accord. You would have to ask her.

****

[prosecution] Professor Slughorn, as a potions master, would you say, that the accused’s claim that he brewed this so-called Phoenix Potion has any basis in probability.

[witness] No, he said that he had to do it all muggle style. We know only of one potion that can be brewed muggle style in a variant, but that takes a year at least. There is no way, that Draco Malfoy could have brewed a potion muggle style in the matter of weeks. A potion that in addition to that was supposedly potent enough to repel unforgivables. Even potions masters take years to develop new potions. He wasn’t that good in potions when he was in my class. Harry Potter was much better.

***

[defence] Ms Parkinson, could you please explain the mutual understanding you had with Mr Draco Malfoy on the _cruciatus_?

[witness] Whenever the Carrows told us to _crucio_ the other we would make a great show of our pain and pretend that it hurt far more than it actually did.

[defence] Did you talk about this?

[witness] (laughs bitterly) Nobody would talk openly. The Carrows took great pains to pair us in such a way, that it was almost impossible to arrange something like that. I wouldn’t have dared to assume if Draco hadn’t taken the risk to tell me.

***

[prosecution] Mr Weasley, you have given us your version of the events at Malfoy Manor. The next question is very important. Did Mr Malfoy recognize Harry Potter?

[witness] No, I don’t think he did. **I** wouldn’t have recognized him as distorted as his face was. He would have sold us to Voldemort, if he had been sure about Harry.

[prosecution] Mr Weasley, I want you to give your assessment on what Mr Malfoy’s intention was, when he intercepted Mr Potter, you and Ms Granger in Hogwarts when you were looking for a Horcrux.

[witness] He wanted to catch Harry and sell him to Voldemort to get back into his good graces.

***

[defence] Mr Weasley, can you please tell us, what Mr Malfoy’s exact words were in the Room of Hidden things?

[witness] He shouted “Stop. Don’t kill him”. He wanted him alive to give him to Voldemort.

[defence] Did he say so? Did he say “I want him alive to give him to Voldemort”.

[witness] No.

[defence] So, it would be possible that he just meant what he said, namely that he didn’t want Vincent Crabbe to kill Harry Potter.

[witness] Later he talked to another Death Eater, showed his mark and said “I am on your side,” even though Harry had just saved his life.

[defence] How do you know that?

[witness] We were under Harry’s invisibility cloak and heard that, as you very well know.

[defence] But Mr Malfoy did not see you.

[witness] No.

[defence] So, to Mr Malfoy it looked like there was just one Death Eater who was about to kill him.

[witness] Yes.

[defence] So, what would you have done, Mr Weasley? Alone against someone who wanted to kill you. Might you have tried to convince your opponent not to kill you by whatever means possible?

[witness] (did not answer).

***

[prosecution] Mr Goyle, you were acquitted due to your age as well as to the fact that you did refrain from fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. You have known Mr Malfoy for some time. Did you ever get the impression that Mr Malfoy had defected, was working against Voldemort?

[witness] No. Draco was upset when his dad had blundered at the end of 5th year. He got the mark before 6th year and got the task to kill Dumbledore. He failed at that. He and his father were out of grace with the Dark Lord since then and then the disaster at Malfoy Manor happened. He wanted to get back into the Dark Lord’s graces ever since then. I am quite sure he never worked against him.

[judge] Does the defence have any questions.

[defence] None. I would just alert the wizengamot to Mr Goyle’s very revealing choice of words. Someone who talks about the “Dark Lord” might not be unbiased and might have his own agenda.

***

[prosecution] Mr Shacklebolt, you are here as head of the aurors. We need your expertise on the _scutum_ spell. Does it really shield from unforgivables?

[witness] Yes. The moment it is cast, the person under the _scutum_ is protected but unable to perform magic. It is useful as a last resort to save people, but the disadvantage is of course that the person cannot cast spells.

[prosecution] Do you have any reason to suspect that there is a potion that could work in the same way?

[witness] In theory, potions can work similarly or very similarly to spells. Pepper-up potion and cheering spells. It would be a very advanced potion.

[prosecution] Did you find evidence of a potion like this after the battle at Hogwarts.

[witness] No, but we didn’t look for it and since we started directly with the rebuilding, any evidence that might have been there is long lost. And we didn’t even know about the _scutum_ spell. We have only been able to cast that after Ms Granger showed us.

[prosecution] How long have your aurors been able to hold the _scutum_ spell?

[witness] The longest anybody managed was five minutes straight. It is a very taxing spell.

[prosecution] Would it be possible to cast it for say the duration of half an hour or even three quarter of an hour?

[witness] I don’t think so.

***

[prosecution] If as you said, Mr Malfoy freed you during the Battle of Hogwarts, why did you stay with him?

[witness] We had been working together on the Phoenix Potion for months. When he freed me, it showed me, that he cared, and I did not want him to die. So, I used the _scutum_ spell in the carrier Severus Snape had given me. He lost consciousness then, and the deatheaters thought they had killed him and disapparated.

[witness] The shock of losing his magic must have triggered a complete memory loss. We were in the middle of Muggle London and he had absolutely no idea. I obviously could not use magic on him, but I used an elven spell.

[prosecution] What kind of elven spell?

[witness] I won’t disclose secrets from my people. Let’s just say it is a kind of spell, that helps find people who will give shelter and home. Draco was picked up by a muggle policeman, who works with young offenders, that is criminals who are not yet of legal age. According to muggle standards Draco was not yet of age at that point. It turned out that someone did not turn up, someone whose place and name Draco took. He became Duncan Miller then.

[prosecution] You could have left him then, when he had found a place to live?

[witness] I did not want to leave him. He was completely at a loss, had no idea about the muggle world, didn’t remember a thing. Everything made no sense to him. I had decided to stay with him until he regained his memory. When he did remember and returned to wizarding London last September, I applied for a job at Hogwarts, knowing that they take elves as employees there.

[prosecution] Did you look for these so-called notes on the Phoenix Potion when you came to Hogwarts?

[witness] Unfortunately, Draco did not tell me, where he put the notes. So, I have no idea where they are. I can testify that these notes existed, and that Draco worked on that potion, and that the potion was effective, but I see that the testimony of a mere house elf is not enough. It is a pity really. Think of the many uses the Phoenix Potion could have ….

***

[defence] The next witness is a muggle, Mr Malcolm Fortescue. Therefore, I will put an illusion charm on him so that to him this courtroom looks like a muggle courtroom and I would ask to refrain from any questions mentioning magic.

[judge] This is highly unusual, Ms Granger. Is this necessary?

[defence] In muggle trials witnesses can be called to give testimony on the character of a person. And I think it is important how Mr Malfoy spent the three years after the battle of Hogwarts in the muggle world.

[defence] Mr Fortescue, could you please tell the jury of this court how you met the man you know as Duncan Miller?

[witness] I have a friend Rick who is a social worker with teenagers and young adults who have slipped into right extremist milieus. Sometimes, if he thinks the person in question is just misguided and needs an honest work to pull himself out of this crab, he sends them to me, and they work for me. My wife is from Pakistan, so they either learn to curb their racist shit pretty soon, or they blow their chance. Sometimes it doesn’t work out, or catering is just not for them, and they will move on, hopefully as better persons. Duncan stayed. He has a real talent for cooking. And he never stepped out of line. So, he’s been working for me ever since May 1998.

[defence] Could you please explain why you trust him, and elaborate why you think he has left his extremist opinions behind, Mr Fortescue?

[witness] Poor boy was a right mess, when he came to me. Post traumatic stress disorder, the headshrinker said. Could barely remember his name. Talked with his imaginary friend, a little goblin or elf or whatever. It was quite obvious, that he had been in a bad place. He was thin as a stick and the first months he would flinch at every loud noise.

[witness] Apart from that…. Jesus Christ, he obviously was a spoiled brat. That accent and his hands! He had never done any honest work whatsoever, I am sure, not one day of his life.

[witness] And there was that ring! Looked like a fancy nobleman’s ring. Born with a golden spoon in his mouth. I swear, he thought that everything in the kitchen would just be done by magic. (chuckles). Wherever he grew up, he must have had a lot of servants, probably had his own valet at a time.

[witness] Anyway, he has this ugly tattoo on his left arm, skulls and snake and shit like that. Said getting that was the biggest mistake of his life. And never spoke a word against my wife. Was always the gentleman, brought her flowers for her birthday.

[witness] Then last September, something triggered his memory. Said he remembered something important. That he had to get back, turn himself in, something like that. Said, he had to reunite parents and daughter?

[witness] I don’t even know, why he gets a full trial. I mean he was still seventeen when he came to me, not an adult yet. Should be judged as a young offender. He certainly didn’t do anything while he worked for me. Even if you give him probation, I’d give him back his work. He and his posh accent (laughs). I tell you it’s an asset for my customers. When he plays the disinherited nobleman fallen on hard times but with impeccable manners it always gets them.

[prosecution] Mr Fortescue, has Mr Mal… ehm, Mr Miller ever told you anything about his origins.

[witness] No. Even if he’d wanted, he probably could not have done it. He was suffering from memory loss. And I didn’t ask. It was obvious, he didn’t want to talk about it.

***

[defence] The next witness is again a muggle. Dr Williams is a muggle doctor who specialises in mental illnesses. He has treated Mr Malfoy for his memory loss.

[judge] Ms Granger, I ask you again, if this is necessary?

[defence] Considering that Mr Malfoy did tell some of his opinions on Voldemort and the war to Dr Williams I think this is necessary. And lest the prosecution claims that this was an offense against the statute of secrecy, Dr Williams will explain under what circumstances Mr Malfoy told his doctor about Voldemort. Dr Williams will probably use the acronym PTSD. It is an acronym for a medical condition called post traumatic stress disorder. It describes the disruption that might happen in a brain after extreme stressful circumstances, after injuries, torture, war etc.

[defence] Dr Williams, could you please tell the jury about your patient, Mr Duncan Miller, whatever you can disclose will be of help.

[witness] I have been treating Mr Miller for memory loss after PTSD for two years. His PTSD was rather bad. In certain aspects he relapsed into childhood patterns. He had this imaginary friend, called Prudy, he insisted he saw around. He never made any progress in that regard. Everytime he told me, he didn’t see this Prudy any longer, I knew he was lying.

[witness] His memory loss got better though. It was at first very general, but became more specific. It was as if certain events had been cut out of his memory in a very fascinating way. He could remember that something had happened, but could not conjure any images to the memory. To name an example. Apparently, there was an event that he called the Yule Ball, and he knew that the girl he had a crush on was somehow the most beautiful girl at this ball, that she wore a gorgeous dress, but he could not tell me what colour the dress had been.

[witness] (holds up a book with sketches) I let him draw anything and anyone that came to his mind. Fortunately, he has a bit of a talent for drawing. I mean you can recognize the people he drew. Sometimes he would remember a phrase or a sentence.

[witness] Should I point them out? Look there, the lady there in the background. That’s his mother. He dreamed about her quite often. Told me she was in much danger. He didn’t want to draw his father though. He blamed him for the mess that his life had become. The young man over there, he is in there. “Crazy Gryffindor”. He might be the same as the boy on this other picture. “Have you seen my toad”. Although he has certainly grown into better looks. And the man over there with the scar on his head is “Saint Potter”. And then there are quite a lot of pictures of his crush… (looks up).

[defence] I don’t think this is that important. Please tell us about the dreams.

[witness] At first, he didn’t remember anything at all, only bits and pieces in dreams. I encouraged him to tell me about his dreams. Because that can trigger the memories. He never recovered his memories fully in our sessions.

[witness] Even if the imagery of dreams can be very weird and fantastic, we can still deduce things about the mind and help the patient to heal. I can assure you that the dreams of Mr Miller seemed to have come straight from cross-over between a fantasy novel and an organised crime movie (laughs).

[witness] Someone should make a novel out of them, although he was not the hero. (laughs again). There was an evil wizard, I mean a wizard, imagine that. Mr Miller just called him the ‘homicidal maniac’. Even in his dreams he would shy from his name. He had a gang of criminals, called death eaters, if you can believe that. Ridiculous name. Apparently, he joined this evil gang because homicidal maniac threatened to kill his mother. And homicidal maniac lived in his house. He then was tasked with killing someone and failed. He told me that he couldn’t do it. And then he began to work against homicidal maniac together with another one of these gangsters. That was really at the heart of his PTSD if you ask me. Living in constant fear for months, plotting something that involved a so-called ‘magic potion’. (shakes head). He and his ally wanted to poison ‘homicidal maniac’ or something to that effect.

[witness] The part about ‘Saint Potter’ was a bit fuzzy. Apparently, he was part of a different gang and he was caught and brought to his house. Then there was something very obscure about ‘his deranged aunt’. I didn’t quite get that and Mr Miller’s dreams about that were very fuzzy and produced a huge amount of anxiety. Anyway, it seemed to be very important, that ‘Saint Potter’ escaped. It got very fantastic after that, because this Potter and his gang were vanished by elves (laughs) Elves! The plot to poison ‘homicidal maniac’ somehow failed, but he still was killed in the end. Mr Miller barely escaped members of his own gang that wanted to kill him as a traitor.

[witness] Usually, in dreams like this, there is a kernel of truth, but it would be difficult to identify the real people that are behind this fairy tale – or maybe mobster movie personas. I do think that we can say for certain though, that Mr Miller had an extreme dislike for the boss of his gang, and that he apparently balked at being ordered to kill up to a point where he worked against his boss.

[defence] Thank you Dr Williams. This is indeed the conclusion that I wanted to argue for the defence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sort of builds up to the big courtroom drama that will be Harry's testimony. And it gives some information on what happened after the Battle of Hogwarts.


	44. Obtaining Muggle Expertise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy tries to delve deep into Muggle techniques.

After a long talk with Draco, Pansy had braced herself and ventured into the muggle world. Chasing paper (or plastic) pound notes was just not enough, not when so much of muggle financial transactions happened without a single note changing hands. Harry had talked about the fact that they needed muggle experience for ages and Pansy decided, that is was time to act.

So, now she sat in a muggle bureau. She had donned coat and skirt which she had bought in a muggle fashion shop so that she would seem reasonably well off. Officially she was the heiress of a small family enterprise who wanted to up the computer security and was looking for advice. The fact that she had only ‘recently inherited’ would hopefully cover any blunders she would make. She wished Neville could be with her, but she knew that a man probably would never get away with blundering. She had declined Harry’s offer to accompany her for that reason.

A man in a suit about her own age greeted her and led her into a bureau. He was broad shouldered and big and quite obviously someone who did sports. A coffee mug stood in front of his name plate and Pansy only saw that his name began with a D.

She told her cover story and did her best ‘I am just a poor woman with no clue’ smile. Not that it was difficult. She had no clue. And that rankled.

The man was surprisingly pleasant and gave her a quick overview of what they could offer. Pansy took all the material she could get. It probably would be best if she arranged a meeting with Hermione’s parents. They might be willing to help a friend of their daughter on Aye -Tea – security, or whatever the name was. Or Hermione or Draco might let her have a look at their computer.

She bagged her haul and was about to leave, when she saw a little figurine on the desk, that sat just behind the man’s name plate. It was a small lion, meticulously done, that reminded her of the little owl they had seen at Emma’s house. She tried to cover the shudder that came over her and pretended that she was getting cold, putting on her scarf and slipping into her coat.

“That is a cute figurine.”, she remarked, putting on her gloves. “Mind if I have a look?”

The smile of the man was full of affection. “I have this in my office for my son. He swears it moves, when he plays with it.”

Pansy gave a shaky laugh. “Children,” she said. “Their imagination often runs wild.”

He handed her the figurine, and Pansy studied it carefully. Just like Emma’s owl it had a plastic stopper on the downside, just where the figurine had a small hole. Pansy twirled the figurine in her hands, trying to loosen the stopper with her gloved hands.

“My godson loves books. He’s read the Lord of the Rings and can’t stop talking about it. All the elves and that.” It was time for small talk.

Pansy got a grin in response. “My son is not old enough for Lord of the Rings. He’s just turned ten and he’s a Percy Jackson fan.”

The stopper came off.

“I am not familiar with that. Is it good?”

“Oh, it definitely is. A teenager certainly can read the books.”

“Thanks for the recommendation. Good idea for the next birthday!”

Pansy took the stopper and let it slip into her bag.

She put the figurine into her left hand and pulled off her glove of the right hand. She stretched it out to shake hands.

“Thank you, for everything, Mr…” she squinted at the name plate. “Mr Dursley.”

Mr Dursley stood and came round his desk.

“You’re welcome. I’ll write a proposal for you. The offer will stand for a fortnight.”

Pansy thanked him.

She wondered if the man could be trusted enough to up their department with this muggle stuff. She studied the photos on his desk. Two children, a boy and a girl, his wife had a decidedly Indian look that reminded Pansy of the Patil twins that had been in her year. They looked like a nice family, but that could be deceiving. She thought of her own parents. They had loved her, but that had not prevented them from making bad decisions.

If the little lion were like Emma’s owl, he would move when she touched the figurine with her bare hand. She walked closer to the desk and let her left hand with the lion hover over the desk, as yet undecided. If the man’s son were a muggleborn, his parents would learn about the magical world anyway.

She placed herself in such a way, that Dursley would not see her putting the figurine back. She picked it up with her right hand and the lion began to shake his mane, well hidden behind the name plate.

Mr Dursley, however, had made his way back to his chair and saw the lion moving. Pansy’s mind whirled trying to come up with an explanation.

“You’re a witch.” His voice was a whisper. It did not sound superstitious. It sounded as if he knew.

She took a leap of faith and picked up the lion again. “Does it move like that, when your son touches it.”

He nodded.

“Your son has magic,” she said.

He nodded again. “I know about magic. My cousin is a wizard.”

Pansy rummaged in her brain. She did not know any Dursleys in the wizarding world.

“We are only loosely in contact. We send each other Christmas cards and that’s it.”

He picked up the figurine, and the lion went still again. “I suppose, when Neil turns eleven, he’ll get an invitation to that school, just like Harry did.”

“Harry?” Pansy asked. “Harry Potter?” She remembered that Harry had grown up with muggles, but this tall, strong man had so little resemblance to lithe and slender Harry.

Mr Dursley smiled. “You know Harry?”

“Everybody in our world knows Harry, but I know him rather well. He is my boss. I am…” she hesitated. “… with the police, you would say. I’m investigating.”

He blinked at her in a way that suddenly struck her as familiar. “What the hell do you want with our firm then? You investigate computer networks?”

“No, a murder case, possibly connected to money laundering. And we have a lead into …” Pansy considered how to put it. “… your world, and smartphones and all that stuff.”

She laughed, relieved that she could admit her ignorance. “The whole stuff blows my mind.”

Then it hit her. “Oh, Merlin, since when do you have this figurine?”, she asked.

“Maybe three weeks,” he answered. “It was a promotional gift from a client firm.”

“We have to talk with Harry about this, your son might be in danger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Auror Pansy chapter. They keep sneaking into my work.... Pansy insists that they be included... I don't know how else to explain this...   
> Well, it is plot relevant, but I originally intended to just sum this up in the next Harry chapter....


	45. Baking cake (Easter 2001)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into the life of a certain Duncan Miller, a former young offender, now in employment with Malcolm Fortescue - a man with memory issues.

“You’re not supposed to stray from the recipe,” Prudy remarked. “not with baking.”

Duncan scoffed. “And you are not supposed to be here. I’m hallucinating your presence and Dr Williams said, that I should have long stopped seeing you. He says I’ve made so much progress, but you insist on just being there.”

He put flour in the measuring jug. “And I probably shouldn’t even be talking to you. You’re an image my traumatized mind came up with that helped me in my time with this gang I was part of, but you might not be helpful now.”

The little elf rolled his eyes. “You like talking to me. I am your friend. And you should at least entertain the idea that that Muggle doctor just doesn’t know everything.”

Duncan began to stir the egg white, the machine whirring. “I have to admit that the fact that you actually have an effect on our surroundings, belies the idea that you are just an image of my traumatized mind.”

Prudy grinned. “I love it, when you apply logic. Now slowly add the sugar.”

“I know, Prudy, this is not the first time I’m baking a cake.”

“Yes, but you want this to be especially good. You are invited to Malcolm and Saima after all.”

“They would invite you, too, if they could see you.”

“Ah, now I am more than just an imagination of your mind.”

“You know, that I don’t really believe Dr Williams. It’s just all so puzzling. I wish I would remember.”

“You won’t, at least not everything”, Prudy told him as she had many times before. “You tempered with your memories, magically. You might at some point remember what happened, but you won’t have any images to go with it.”

“Magically! Hah, there is a logical fallacy there, Prudy. If I did this by magic, how comes that I can’t do magic now.”

“You can’t any longer.” Prudy’s face was full of regret. “Because I had no idea that the spell that saved your life would be perpetual.”

She scrunched her face. Duncan patted her. “Prudy, I know you saved my life from that evil gangsters.”

Duncan did not really know how an imaginary friend could have saved his life nor how an imaginary friend could do real cooking, but Dr Williams insisted that it would all make sense once he got his memories back. He certainly didn’t know how his imagination could come up with such a strange looking creature and this beautiful girl he liked to draw in his sketch book.

Prudy insisted the girl was real, as real as the middle-aged woman Duncan drew, that Duncan was sure was his mother. Duncan might have inherited his blond hair from her. Or his father. Duncan did not want to search his mind for an image of his father. For some reason he was very angry at his father.

Dr Williams had been proud of him when he said that out loud. ‘I am very angry at my father.’

He suspected the ring on his right hand with the black stone had been a gift from his father. For some reason, the black colour of the stone made him sad.

When he had put the cake in the oven, Duncan leafed through his sketch book. Sometimes he would remember or maybe come up with sentences that fit his sketches and then he wrote it below the sketch.

Today he looked at a picture of a round-faced boy, and for some reason the sentence ‘Where is my toad?’ came to his mind. He scribbled it down.

‘Hermione’ was written under the pictures of the beautiful girl or maybe woman. Duncan had so many sketches of her, and to him it was clear that he must have grown up with her or maybe they had visited the same school. On some pictures she could not be older than twelve, on some she looked like a grown woman. Her hair was a mass of unruly curls, but Duncan somehow remembered that they were soft to the touch. Her brown eyes were warm.

Prudy had told Duncan that she had indeed been in his school, that he loved her, and Duncan knew this to be true, even though the name Hermione made him suspicious. Who had a name like that? It somehow did not roll naturally from his tongue when he tried it out. Did he have a pet name for her? Maybe something that started with G?

When the cake was ready, Prudy and he made their way to the Fortescues. Duncan got a warm welcome and Saima smiled at the flowers he had brought and told him what a nice gentleman he was. Duncan had a warm fuzzy feeling in his heart. Easter holidays were especially difficult. There was a dark memory somewhere in his mind, that was connected to Easter. He had not yet dared to try to unveil it. Just thinking about it too hard, made him sweat.

The Fortescues had two teenage daughters and they insisted to have a re-watch of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. Malcolm wanted to see ‘The Godfather’, but his wife shook her head.

“No violence,” she chided him.

Duncan was very obliged. He loved watching films, but he did not need to see any blood, even if it was not real. Another oddity of his memory was that he did not remember ever watching any movies before he had come to work with Malcolm. His daughters were regularly surprised that he had no idea about Disney movies. He had indulged them once and had watched a movie called ‘Sleeping beauty’ with them, and they had been surprised that **he** was surprised when Prince Philipp’s kiss woke up Aurora. ‘It doesn’t make sense,’ he had told them. ‘He should have undone the spell. Since when does a kiss undo a spell. She wasn’t pricked in her lips, was she?’.

Prudy sat on the back of his chair and he could hear her chuckle. The whole family knew the series by heart, it seemed to Duncan, and they had far too much fun with Duncan’s reaction to the story.

Duncan immediately liked the refined gentleman who was holding himself aloof and made the occasional witty remark. His friend was a little bit too cheery for Duncan’s liking. Who walked around with such a grin on his face all the time?

The female protagonist was even more to Duncan’s liking. He admired her sass, and so did the refined gentleman.

“He’s in so deep for her. Does she even realise that her sass just makes him fall harder?” He chuckled.

“You spotted that quite fast.” Malcolm seemed more amused about him than the film.

Duncan groaned when Elizabeth Bennett had to put up with that incredibly stupid cousin of hers.

“He should be a ginger, as stupid as he is.” He did not know where that idea came from. “How could he think this would make her say yes?”

They tried Duncan’s cake after that. And although it had been an experiment, it was really tasty. Malcolm decided that they would include ‘Chocolate-lemon-cake’ into their offers at Fortescue’s. Duncan stuck out his tongue to Prudy, when there was an opportunity, and nobody looked. Prudy rolled her eyes.

At the end of the third episode, Duncan found himself defending Mr Darcy’s proposal. He could not understand why the girls thought it was unromantic.

“He really jumped the fence there,” he argued. “Her family is inferior, and he loves her so much, that he is ready to overlook it.”

“No,” the girls told him in no uncertain manner. “It shows that he does not yet care really about her feelings, or he wouldn’t insult her family to her face. He just thinks she will accept, because he is insanely rich.”

They had a point there. “Are you saying he blew his chances?”

The girls nodded.

Duncan shook his head. “Poor sod, this is going to have an unhappy ending, isn’t it?”. It made him sad and he could not even say why. Maybe Elizabeth Bennet would give Mr Darcy a second chance?

As it turned out, she did. The next day, the Fortescues made him watch the second half, all the way laughing heartily at his remarks.

Ms Bennet and Mr Darcy met again by chance and Mr Darcy managed not to blow it again, and then he had the opportunity to help his love.

He laughed so hard, when his and her family were quite openly opposed to the match and remarked that they should just get together against all odds. The way Ms Bennet dressed down Darcy’s aunt was admirable.

The girls sighed heavily at Darcy’s second proposal, and Duncan had to agree that it was way more considerate than the first.

Malcolm was still laughing about his investment in the story when Duncan bade them goodbye to return to his own flat. He lent him the book the series was based on and Duncan looked forward to reading it.

On the way home, he thought about Hermione. He was quite sure that his love was at least as witty as Ms Bennet. When he asked Prudy, she told him, that to her knowledge, she was.

“In a world without Voldemort, that might have been your story.”

“Merlin’s beard, Prudy, don’t say that name.” He looked around as if sinister shapes would come around the corner. It had been an involuntary reaction that came out of nowhere. He did not really know who Voldemort was, and he had no idea why he had sworn by the name of Merlin, a long dead wizard, a legendary figure.

“He’s dead, Duncan. There is no need to fear him any longer.”

Duncan shuddered and clutched his left arm, the arm with the tattoo as if he remembered the pain he suffered when he got it. There was a connection. He just knew it, but it eluded him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to elaborate on Prudy, the 'imaginary friend'....


	46. Old and dusty tomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rina gets detention and a strange task.

Rina was sent to the headmaster for storming out of the Potions room in the middle of her lesson. She usually did well in Potions, but when Professor Thompson had told his class, that the Phoenix Potion was nothing but a myth, she had lost her temper.

John Greggs, her fellow head from Hufflepuff, had tried to calm her, but to no avail. She had called her teacher a liar and had shouted at him, and now she was ascending the stairs on her way to see Headmaster Flitwick.

Despite her predicament, she was not entirely unhappy. It was her seventh year and finally she had managed to do something that would let her see the headmaster’s office. She knew she would probably get a scolding, but even if the headmaster wrote to her parents, they wouldn’t be angry with her, not really. Dad would tell her not get worked up about something she could not change, and mum would tell her to state her disagreement in a calm and collected manner.

Rina had to laugh, just picturing her parents. Dad would not be openly worked up about something he could not change, but he never cut on his sarcasm. And her mum. At one time Blaise and Luna had taken her to court to see her mother in action, Blaise because he wanted to be entertained, and Luna because it had been a trial that had involved centaurs. Her mother at court did not really do ‘calm and collected’, dedicated and spirited came much closer.

The door opened to admit her to the headmaster’s office and Rina took a few breaths to calm herself. Flitwick had been a nice and fair teacher and he had taught Rina in charms in her first three years, before Professor McGonagall retired, but it would not do to enter the headmaster’s office laughing.

“Professor Flitwick?”, she called out.

“Come in.”

She barely saw the small man. The whole room was packed with books. Dozens, no, hundreds of books, old and dusty tomes that must be worth thousands of galleons. Rina stared in wonder.

“Ah, Ms Granger-Malfoy, our head girl, just the person I need.”

Rina was baffled. “Professor Flitwick?”, she said. “Professor Thompson told me to report to you. He said you should write an admonition to my parents because I was disrespectful in class. And that I should get detention.”

“What did you do?”

“I called Professor Thompson a liar and shouted at him.”

“Whatever for?”

“He said the Phoenix Potion was just a myth.”

“Well, I see, how that might have irritated you.”

Flitwick looked at her as if pondering a difficult question. “We will have to think about a detention, that will show Professor Thompson that I do not tolerate such lapses. Would you like to do some research, Ms Granger-Malfoy?”

He waved at the masses of books.

“What do you want me to do?” Rina was not sure, what daunting task would be connected to such an enormous number of books.

“You know that your father will come to Hogwarts?”

Rina nodded. “Yes, for DADA lessons, _scutum_ and all that.” She still did not know how she felt about that. Lizzie had told her that the Hufflepuffs were all very excited and were collecting questions they could ask dad. Some of the questions had leaked and students were already betting what dad would answer.

“Well, he wrote to me, that he wants to visit the library, while he is here.”

“Oh Merlin, did he remember where he put his notes on the Phoenix Potion?”

“No. He wants to look into the Malfoys’ history.”

Rina was taken aback. “But why, and why here?”

Professor Flitwick shook his head.

“Rina, you are an intelligent girl, and I know that the ‘Greengrass guide’ is on your curriculum since Christmas. You can answer that question yourself, eh?”

“Dad wants to find an heir? Someone who is not him and who could possibly revoke the cut out curse? So that he can see my grandmother? And he must do it here, because he can’t look up the books at Malfoy Manor.” Rina felt her knees give way and she unceremoniously let herself fall on one of the book stacks.

“As soon as I got your parents’ letter I wrote to your grandmother and suggested that she lends some books on genealogy and old wizarding families to the Hogwarts library.”

“I see,” Rina said weakly, waving her hands at the books.

“I got rather more than I bargained for,“ Professor Flitwick told her with a shake of his head. “Your grandmother did not lend the books, she donated them, and this is only the first shipment.”

“The books need to be categorized and included into our library, but I will leave that to Mr Fillingham.”

He winked at her. “Your detention will be to look at the tomes that hold information on the Malfoy family. Since your teacher is not satisfied with what you do know about your family.”

He sighed exaggeratedly. “It’s such a pity that your siblings get detentions so rarely. You just have to ask them to help you. That way you’ll give your father a head start.”

“But why?” Rina asked.

“Because I suppose you have to go back several generations and there will be quite a lot of dead ends.”

Rina shook her head impatiently. “I figured that. But why give me detention and why are the books here and not in the library.”

“Ms Granger-Malfoy,” Professor Flitwick answered. “We are dealing with a volatile and deadly curse. Better safe than sorry.”

***

Rina spied Colin at the Gryffindor table at the end of the bench as usual. His nose was buried in a book with a worn cover, that looked positively shabby. David Finnigan, the Gryffindor prefect looked up when he saw her approach. Rina wished she knew why the two Gryffindor prefects lately seemed so off. They treated her as if she were made of glass, and it annoyed her no end.

Rina looked over Colin’s shoulder. Although the book had a cover, it was obviously handwritten, a spidery script that looked like someone had tried to distort their writing. It was written in no language she knew.

“Colin?”. She touched his shoulder. “Could you just come over to Lizzie for a moment? I’ve got to tell you something and don’t want to go through it twice.”

Colin put a finger in his book and followed her. Lizzie was in the midst of very exuberant Hufflepuffs who readily made space for Colin and Rina.

“What is it?,“ Lizzie asked.

“The headmaster just told me that mum and dad will come both. I guess we’ll get owls soon as well. Flitwick just got a letter today. They want to look up…. “ Rina stopped, because she suddenly got the feeling that all the surrounding Hufflepuffs were staring at her.

“Your mum will come as well?”, one freckled girl with braids asked her.

“I don’t see how this is your business,” Rina snapped. Why did Hufflepuffs have no idea about personal space. “But, yes, my mum and dad will come.”

“Oh Merlin,” the girl said. She raised her voice. “Guys, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger will visit Hogwarts. Together. This is not a drill. I repeat. This is not a drill.”

Rina stared open-mouthed as the Hufflepuff table seemed to come alive, buzzing and humming like a beehive.

Lizzie giggled. “I told you, mum and dad are popular in Hufflepuff.”

“This is insane,” Colin remarked.

Rina stood up. “This is too much, please come with me, just for a moment.”

Her younger siblings followed her outside. Rina watched around and glared at some Ravenclaws who decided to give the Head Girl a wide berth. She nodded satisfied.

“O.k…. Has Professor Greengrass talked to you about the Cut out curse?”

They both nodded. “Not in class,” Lizzie piped up. “She took us aside.”

“Mum and dad want to research the Malfoys’ history, to find an heir, who then can revoke the Cut out curse. Our grandmother has sent books on the family history here to Hogwarts and Flitwick just asked me to begin the research to give mum and dad a head start. He suggested you could help me.”

“That is why!”. Colin’s face lit up, like it usually did, when he had understood something. “I was wondering why dad would want to come here.”

He chuckled. “The Gryffindors are puzzled, but since Uncle Neville invited him, they haven’t said anything yet, at least not to me.”

Rina studied him, carefully. She still did not see him with anyone else but Rachel, and Prudy of course, but he looked more relaxed.

“No need to be worried, Rina.” Lizzie grinned openly. “Jane Fletcher and David Finnigan have decided to flank Colin. They behave like mother ducks.”

“What is up with them, anyway?” Rina wanted to know. “They look at me as if they know some secret even I myself don’t know.”

“Fifth and sixth years have learnt about ancient family curses, and they might have put two and two together.” Colin frowned. “Jane asked me how dad survived. I thought she meant the war, but she might have meant the curse… “

He paused and thought. “…Actually, she can’t have meant the curse. She asked me directly after Christmas break.” He shrugged. “But it’s not only that. I have a truce with the Pott-Weasel disasters.”

“What? How did that come about?”

“Apparently, they were instructed to behave better than dad and Weasley.”

Rina scoffed. “That was not dad’s fault.”

“It could not have been dad’s fault, obviously” Lizzie said. “Dad is a happy man, after all.”

They laughed.

“So, when shall we three meet again? For the sinister task of delving into our family history?”

Rina clapped Colin on his arm. “Macbeth. You show-off. We’ll start this evening, after dinner.”

They made a circle with their hands and then walked back and entered the hall again.

“Can you even read that?”, Rina asked and pointed at Colin’s book.

“I have absolutely no idea.” Colin sighed. He showed her the cover. “This book is supposedly on house elves, but it is all gibberish. I don’t recognize the language.”

He shook his head. “Can you believe that mum was the last person to borrow this book?”

“Since it seems to be basically unintelligible…. that actually makes sense.” Rina reined herself in. She would **not** roll her eyes at her brother.

They separated and went to their house tables. John, the Head Boy came over and asked how her meeting with Flitwick had gone.

“Must be your first detention ever!”

“No,” Rina told him. “I got one by Dawlish in sixth year as well, when I challenged his opinion on how long a _scutum_ spell can be held.”

She focussed on her food and avoided looking at John. She hated when anyone looked at her with pity, and she did not want to go off on John who was usually a very accommodating co-head.

Owls arrived and she got a letter by mum and dad. It was for her, Colin and Lizzie, just as she had expected, and she began to read immediately. She had not yet finished the letter when she heard the shrieking of a howler.

Professor Greengrass sat shocked as she was addressed as being a piss poor excuse for a DADA teacher, but the howler had no time to finish. Uncle Neville’s mongoose sprang out of his wand and swooped to get the howler and cut it short. The shimmering white figure then returned to Neville and he wiped his wand over it with a complicated pattern and then whispered something to his _patronus_. The mongoose disappeared, the howler safely in his mouth. The sender would get a nasty surprise. Rina absolutely wanted to learn that spell. Uncle Neville must have picked it up from mum.

Uncle Neville sat again, at first seemingly oblivious to the awe of the students and shrugged off Professor Greengrass’ thanks.

When the excitement in the hall did not die down, he stood again and quickly enhanced his voice with a _sonorus_ charm. “This is just one of the many uses of a corporal _patronus_. I expect the sixth years to keep that well in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Narcissa has found yet another way to get rid of the Malfoy fortune...  
> And genealogy might become important...


	47. Revisiting Mayweed Grove (September 18, 2001)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan revisits a place he knows from before

“Mayweed Grove,” he told Prudy. “That is where she lived. I remember that.”

“Don’t just stand there. Go on, try to look for the house,” the little elf told him. “I’ve done some sleuthing, and if you don’t remember soon, you might be too late.”

“Too late? Why?”, Duncan asked.

“Just try to find her, you dunderhead” Prudy answered.

“You’re supposed to be my friend. Why do you insult me?”

“It’s not an insult, if it’s the truth,” Prudy rolled her eyes. “And it is so much fun to test my boundaries.” She hopped at his side.

“Duncan the dunderhead, Duncan the dolt, Duncan the dork,” she shouted at the top of her lungs. “I’ve just realised that your name really goes well with D-insults…”

Duncan had no idea what Prudy meant with boundaries. She certainly had not shown any reluctance to tease him over the years. Briefly, he wondered, if imaginary friends were supposed to be that unmanageable. Shouldn’t imaginary friends be more, well, friendly?

On Prudy’s prodding he overcame his hesitation and went into the lane even though his mind did somersaults, and he felt slightly nauseous.

He half-closed his eyes and let himself be carried by his feet, trying not to concentrate on where he went.

He came to a halt in front of a non-descript house of medium size, big enough for a family.

His heart was beating erratically, sweat broke out on his brow and his hand began trembling. He was certain that in this house something had happened. It might have been a trick of his mind, but he thought he could hear glass crashing, and he had an image of himself, a wand in his hand, standing in midst of chaos and destruction.

A wand.

In his hand.

“What did I do here?”, he whispered. He somehow knew he had ploughed a path of destruction through the house, but why? It reminded him of his dreams, he very reluctantly shared with Dr Williams. Dr Williams thought the dreams were just images his mind conjured to veil his memories, but standing in front of this house, Duncan was not sure.

“I don’t know. I was not yet your confidante,” Prudy told him. “But I guess you started messing with your memories at this place.”

He sat down on the pavement, his head pounding.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” he asked Prudy.

“I am not sure, I should,” his friend answered. “Dr Williams told you it is better if you remember of your own accord.”

He began to fiddle with his ring, tapping the ring.

“That was our sign. I came, when you called me like that.”

He put his head between his knees, trying to blend out Prudy’s voice. “It hurts. My head hurts.”

Prudy laid a hand on his knee. “I know you are quite comfortable as Duncan Miller, and I like Duncan Miller much more than I liked your older self.”

He looked up. “Why would you say that? Was I that bad in my time with the gang?”

Prudy looked at him with her big round eyes. “I wasn’t your friend, I was your servant. And you used me for your own schemes. Even if I agreed with your plans, I still resented that.”

She shrugged. “I pitied you at first. Lost in London, in a world you had no idea about.”

And then she laughed. “Do you remember when you spent your first wage in a single afternoon, because you thought it was just pocket money?”

“That was not funny.” Duncan scowled at her, and then he laughed. “Oh my, I would probably have starved without you. Dressed in a nice button-down shirt, black jeans and shiny new shoes. But starved.”

“Not to forget that your hair would have smelled fresh,” Prudy teased him.

“I do keep my money together, now.” He shook his head. “If you prefer me as a friend now, why should I remember?”

“If you do not look for Hermione now, you might lose her forever. And in case you do remember later, you might never forgive me. You are presumed dead and she is engaged.”

“Engaged to whom?” He jumped up.

“Ha,” Prudy clapped her hands. “I should have known that would get me a reaction.”

“Who?”, he asked. “Who?”

Prudy bent her head to the side. “I don’t want you to go on a rampage. You just have to find her.”

“Then tell me, tell me, what my name was.”

“I have to be sure you want to risk that. Dr Williams said, that regaining your memories might be quite overwhelming.”

Duncan pulled out his sketching book and leafed through it, until he chanced upon a picture of Hermione. She was bent over a pot with an ancient design, and a streak of her hair had been plastered to the side of her face with the raising damp. To him she looked like a mirage, but Prudy said she was real.

“Tell me,” he said.

Prudy pointed at his ring. “Your name is Draco, you are the Malfoy heir and you are a wizard, or you were a wizard up to the point I threw the _scutum_ spell on you, that Severus Snape had prepared.”

Draco Malfoy. A wizard.

Nausea hit him and suddenly the pavement was much nearer than it had been, and he barely managed to brace his fall with his elbows.

The pain from his elbows prevented that he lost consciousness and for minutes he lay on the ground, panting heavily, his thoughts whirling, bits and pieces of his life before he became Duncan.

His mother, his father, he himself sitting on a broom, a snitch in his hand, the vast grounds of Malfoy Manor, the Hogwarts Express, Severus Snape, his teachers, the sorting hat calling ‘Slytherin’, the dungeons, the joy of feeling magic flow through him, when he got his wand.

Then he felt the burning on his left arm, the day he got the Dark Mark, the cabinet, Dumbledore, the Astronomy Tower, a ferret that did not die, when he tried the killing spell, and fear. Fear. Ever present fear. Fear as his constant companion.

Other memories he did not see but were just words in his mind. Manor, Bellatrix, Hermione screaming, _scutum_ , Phoenix Potion, his notes, Room of Hidden things, Horcrux, Hogwarts Library.

He groaned.

“It was worse than just a criminal gang,” he mumbled. “wasn’t it?”

Prudy nodded.

He picked himself up with some difficulty and sat down on the pavement again.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Draco,” Prudy said. “You tried your best.”

She looked up and immediately fell silent.

Draco turned his head and saw a middle-aged man who looked down on him with sympathy.

“Young man, are you quite alright? I am only a dentist, but I still know something about medicine. And you took a bad fall.”

Draco stared. He would recognize this bushy hair everywhere.

“You’re her father. You’re Hermione’s father.”

It was the man’s turn to stare. “You know her? Can you lead us to her? We’ve been looking for her for ages.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to the reunion. Hooray!  
> Please leave some comments, if you like it. :-)


	48. Doubts and Hope (September 19, 2001)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione ponders her options....

Her birthday was always the worst. None of her friends save Luna really understood her need to be alone on this day of all days. It was her fifth birthday without her parents. She did not remember if Harry, Ron and her even acknowledged her birthday when they were on the Horcrux hunt. But the birthday after Voldemort died had been the worst. Mere days after the battle of Hogwarts Hermione had flown to Australia, but Monica and Wendell Wilkins had vanished without a trace. Voldemort had died, but she had lost her family and she had lost the boy whom she might have loved if the times had been different.

There had been no trace of Draco after the battle. She thought she had seen him at one end of the Great Hall, as if he had been under a badly placed disillusionment charm. She regretted that she had not stayed with him after they had escaped the fiendfyre. She had not been needed neither for the killing of the snake, nor for the final defeat of Voldemort. She had fought of course, she had thrown the few vials of Phoenix Potion she had at her friends, but she doubted it had made any difference. If only she had stayed at his side! She would never have lost him then.

She had searched for hours with no result. The _querio_ charm that could be used for any magical being had been useless. Every time she used it her wand had just spun in circles, a very unusual reaction. It had been like that for years now, and Hermione should know. She only used the charm occasionally now, but she still repeated it, her hope never having died. It was as if she were addicted and could not get rid of this bad habit. And would Draco not look for her, if he had survived?

She knew for certain that Draco’s parents had searched as well, and intensely. They had offered a reward to anyone who could give information on their son. And they had not stopped at that.

About a week ago, when she had visited Harry and Ron at the auror department her fragile peace of mind had been shaken to the core. She had overheard Pansy Parkinson talking to the head auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. Pansy Parkinson had opted for joining the auror department of all possible career choices, a year after Ron and Harry, after a repeated seventh year and proper graduation from Hogwarts, just like Neville had done. Parkinson had answered Shacklebolt’s question about the Malfoys’ efforts and Hermione’s heart had stopped for a while when she had chanced upon their conversation. Shacklebolt wanted to tie things up, catch and try one of the few death eaters unaccounted for.

Apparently, as soon as Lucius had come out of Azkaban this August, the Malfoys had used a blood spell to locate Draco. Hermione did not even know this was possible. Blood spells were supposed to be dark magic, but Shacklebolt had been inclined to be lenient when parents used their own blood to search for their son. The powerful spell had been as much a failure as her own _querio_ charm, though, just as if Draco himself was untraceable. Apparently Narcissa Malfoy had not given up hope. The spell had not disclosed Draco’s whereabouts, but it had also shown that he might be alive. If he were to be found he would face a trial and likely a sentence, but after three years of peace, the wizarding community was unlikely to be after the life of a death eater who hadn’t killed anyone, at least not as far as anyone knew.

She could use her mother’s advice now. She slowly sipped her tea, but the answer to her predicament was not to be found in the tealeaves.

After she had finished law school in July, Ron had proposed. They had been together ever since the autumn after Voldemort died, three years ago. Ron was funny and occasionally thoughtful and there could be no doubt, that he loved her. They fought frequently, but they laughed more often. And Hermione loved him, she had always loved him. She was just not sure if she loved him in the right way.

She would be surer about the nature of her own feelings if she did not still think about Draco. Sometimes she remembered how they had kissed that night in the hospital wing, sometimes their desperate kiss in the Room of Hidden things came unbidden to her mind.

When she told herself that it had been just kisses, that she had kissed Victor and Cormac before Draco and Ron after him, and that mere kisses should not fluster her, she felt more than she saw his intense look at the moment Bellatrix had stopped throwing the _cruciatus_ at her. When she remembered how Draco had encased her in his spell and how his gaze had hit her at the very core of her being, she could not fathom that anything she would experience could ever be that intense.

This was why she desperately needed her parents and their advice. She had accepted Ron, thinking that Draco was lost to her, likely dead. She wanted a home, she wanted people she trusted. She wanted people that were close to her and the Weasleys had been so welcoming and nice. She needed some anchor in her life, some safe haven in the wizarding world that could still be unaccepting of people like her at times. Draco was just some far away ‘might have been’, not a real person she could touch and love. People did move on after grief and mourning and could be happy. Or so she had told herself repeatedly, before her resolution had been shaken, when she had overheard Parkinson.

What would her parents’ advice be? Move on? Forget about Draco? Even if he were alive, he would face a trial and there was little to no chance that his family or her friends would be welcoming a relationship. Call the wedding off? Because of a single overheard sentence and a maybe? A single sentence that had thrown her into a spiral of doubting the depth of her feelings for Ron? And what did it tell about her feelings for Ron, when a shadow of hope could shred her certainty to nothing?

The most nagging thought of all was her ‘what if’. Would she even have said yes, if her parents were with her to give her the warmth and love she craved? Had she said yes because she feared the Weasleys would reject her if she said no?

When she realised the splatter of tears on her hands, she was relieved she was alone, so that no one could see her like this.

She had the sinking feeling that she knew what her mother would say. ‘Better marry no man than the wrong man’. She could almost hear her mother’s voice.

Was Ron the wrong man though? Or was it her who was wrong? Pining after a love that everything told her was impossible, unrealistic, doomed, uncertain, instead of a solid, trusting and even tender relationship? Shouldn’t she be more **realistic** , more **reasonable** about this?

The tea in the mug she held had long grown cold and she still did not know what to do. Call off the wedding? Renew her efforts to find Draco? Settle down and stop daydreaming?

Finally tell Ron and Harry about the history she shared with Draco? Tell someone about it?

She grimaced. She had tried to tell Harry and Ron about Draco helping her, about Draco helping them, when Crabbe and Goyle had almost ruined their search for the diadem. Time and again she had tried to reason with them, and it had always ended with a fight.

She shook her head. Harry had readily testified for Narcissa Malfoy and had been the main witness for the defence. Narcissa Malfoy’s blatant lie to Voldemort about Harry’s supposed death had earned her a light sentence. She had been declared a ‘defector’ and had been allowed a wand and full use of it after a year of house arrest. But Harry would not even consider that Draco was not a death eater at heart. Hermione wondered if it was a weird effect of Harry’s bad conscience about the _sectumsempra_ he had directed at Draco in sixth year. If Draco were a death eater through and through there would be no need to feel bad about that after all. As for the events at Malfoy manor, having joined the aurors and learning about dark curses and unforgivables and possible effects of the _cruciatus_ had fastened Ron’s and Harry’s opinion that **she** was the one who misremembered.

What would they even say, when they knew that Hermione’s conviction that Draco had been helping them was not all? That her heart pounded when she thought of Draco, that she was convinced that he had even worked against Voldemort? That she had kissed him? Would Ron ever understand? Would it mean the end of their relationship, the end of their friendship?

Would it be worth it? Confessing everything? And then? It could end with her all alone, on her own. She was an independent and confident woman, but could she bear that?

Could she on the other hand marry Ron in good conscience when she had left him in the dark about her history with Draco? Now, that she knew there was a chance Draco was alive?

Hermione looked in despair at her cold tea. When had she erred? When she had allowed herself to be consoled by Ron? When she had not insisted that she needed more time? Or when she had visited Draco in the hospital wing? Should she have begged the order to save her parents? Would everything be different if her parents were alive?

Her vision blurred, again. Sobs made her body tremble and at first, she did not hear the doorbell.

She stopped crying, annoyance taking over. She had explained to the boys that she needed to be alone on this day. She decided to ignore the doorbell. She would brew herself a fresh hot tea.

The person at the door kept insisting. Someone must have fallen asleep with a finger on the button. Irritated, Hermione waved her wand and cut the connection to her bell. What was so difficult about understanding that she wanted peace!

Luna’s hare _patronus_ popped into existence in her kitchen and she dropped her tea mug and it crashed to the floor.

The animal opened its mouth. “Please, Hermione, open the door. I know you are at home. I promise this is the best birthday surprise ever.”

Hermione muttered to herself and went to the door, wiping her tears away with her sleeves.

“I swear, if Harry or Ron set you up for this, I am going to hex your ears off, Luna Lovegood,” she said sternly when she opened the door.

Luna stood there, the brightest grin on her face and at her side, smiling timidly were her parents.

“I believe you are acquainted with Monica and Wendell Wilkins?”

Hermione burst into tears again.

“How, how?”

She was tempted to hurl herself into her parents’ arms, but she saw that they did not recognize her, their eyes curious, but with an air of uncertainty about them.

“You do have your father’s hair,” her mother said. She held up a worn-out poster, Hermione recognized from the war, when she had been an undesirable.

“How are you alive?”, Hermione asked. She ushered all of them into her flat.

“We were captured and brought to this evil wizard, but one of your former teachers saved us,” her father said.

“From their description I would say it was Snape,” Luna put in. “He must have helped them shortly before the battle of Hogwarts.”

“He told us to not go looking for you unless we heard someone say the name Voldemort.” Her father frowned. “We tried to piece things together, and remember, but you seem to have been quite thorough with your memory spell.”

“Did you not look for us?”, her mother asked.

Hermione dabbed her eyes. “I travelled to Australia, but you were gone, and nobody could tell me where you went. I assumed that they had found you and killed you. I was about to try a spell I only learned about this week as a last resort.”

“We did remember our old address here in London and rebought the house, but not before recently,” her mother told her.

“You moved back to Mayweed Grove?” Hermione’s heart clenched at the thought of her childhood home.

“Yes, and we got the house for a penny and a half. Apparently, the neighbours think, it’s haunted. Someone made a wreckage of the place after we had left.”

“Death eaters probably.” Luna thought out loud.

“And when we had moved in, that nice young man came by and told us, that he could lead us to you. What was his name again, Wendell?”

“Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco?” Hermione’s voice toppled over.

Luna laughed. “Believe it or not, Hermione. He went into the Leaky cauldron in broad daylight. I was there, having a drink with Neville and Hannah, and there he was. He told me that Hermione Granger would want to see the Wilkinses.”

“Draco? Draco found them?”, now her voice was a whisper. Her knees felt weakened and she grabbed Luna’s arm to support herself.

“Yes, Malfoy of all people. I could hardly believe he would care enough for your muggle parents.” She patted her arm. “Maybe you were right after all, you know, that he tried to help you. It was his bad luck, that there were several aurors there as well, apart from Neville. But he turned himself in without fight, if you can believe that.”

Worry entered her eyes. “Hermione, you are pale as a sheet. Did you forget to eat again?”

Her voice sounded like she was suddenly very far away, and if she said something after that, Hermione didn’t hear it as she was sinking into short-lived oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the catch-up chapter for Hermione....


	49. The Cloak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry plans an infiltration with Pansy and Neville

Harry had to recruit Neville for their case after all. So far, Pansy had not stormed into his office demanding answers on why Malfoy was observed which meant that nobody had told her yet. Which in turn meant that Harry still did not know whom to trust. Apart from the fact that Neville was the only person who at least had a plausible excuse to show up at Fawley’s house, who was for now the only real suspect they had.

Some of the galleons Percy had prepared had vanished completely, their recording spell evaporated, which probably meant that they had been melted down and sold on the Muggle market for gold. With accumulating crisis all over the globe, the price for gold had rocketed and melting the galleons for the gold could render a solid profit. Percy had given him the details and would hopefully be able to explain this at court. Harry knew it meant, that goblins were somehow involved. Goblins supervised the galleons after all. At least he had been able to put Luna off about the occamy smugglers. He had a bout of bad conscience about that, but he really had his plate full.

Pansy and her dogged effort had produced results. They now had proof that the figurines were sold in a considerable amount throughout the city, maybe not a method to detect all muggleborns, but certainly better than the occasional check for accidental magic. And she had experimented with the drone she had bought. Apparently, she had managed to transfigure the thing into a bird, put a _scutum_ on it, and tried to steer it with Neville’s new phone. The drone had crashed and was no more, but it had worked and would work again with sufficient practice.

Harry’s surprise when Pansy had brought Dudley to the department had been only topped by the reveal that Dudley had a magical son with a half-Indian mother. Harry had been positively giggling when he pictured Aunt Petunia’s face distorted in indignation over that development, but their discussion had soon turned serious.

All hope that Neill might not yet have been on the radar of the attackers fled though, when Neill had told them, that he had fed a large magpie that had been in their garden. Neill looked robust and healthy enough, but Harry was deeply worried.

It had been no problem to persuade Dudley to help them with the muggle stuff. But they needed physical access to the phones. And then Dudley would try a ‘hack’, whatever that was.

That was where Neville came in. When Harry had approached Neville and Pansy, Neville made a valiant effort to pretend that he had no idea what Harry was talking about and that Pansy had not already told him. Harry in turn explained everything in detail. Pansy rolled her eyes, but Harry was skirting the edges of the law anyway, and he would not be sloppy.

“So, do you have an excuse to visit Fawley? As a teacher?” Harry asked.

“Sure.” Neville seemed positively eager at the prospect. “Fawley was one of the parents who sent a howler complaining about Astoria’s and my teaching methods in DADA. I can easily tell him that I want to explain. Not that he would try to understand. He is a bigoted idiot. And if that’s not good enough I can share my concern about his daughter’s erratic magic.”

“There are parents who actually send howlers to teachers?” Harry shook his head. “Why?”

Neville’s smile was smug. “I doubt any parent will ever try again. Hermione showed me her trick how to return howlers to the sender. I tell them, that they can talk to me any time they want to, but in a civilised manner.”

‘In a civilised manner’. That was so typical of Neville, that Harry had to smile, despite the casual mention of Hermione.

“So, you’ll give Fawley the opportunity to discuss your teaching methods in a ‘civilised manner’. And Pansy will sneak around to find his phone.” Harry rummaged in his bag and unpacked his invisibility cloak. “In this.”

Pansy took the cloak, awe on her face. “You trust me with this, boss?”

“You and Teddy are the only people in the department I really trust.” That was nothing but the truth, and hopefully Pansy would remember that.

Neville reached over and let his fingers run over the exquisite fabric. “I could have sworn….” He looked thoughtful.

“What?”

Neville scrunched his nose. “I suspected James to have brought it to Hogwarts after Christmas. I’ve not caught him or Richard sneaking around since then. And I don’t think he suddenly has become rule-abiding.”

Harry laughed. “Merlin, James swore that he had not used it. I had to fetch it, actually. He has tried to nick it and take it to school ever since he got his Hogwarts letter. It’s a sort of game we play. And this time he succeeded. I was distracted, with Ron returning from the States and all that.”

“Your son really is a handful.” Neville shook his head. “And Richard as well. Did you know they are called the disaster twins?”

Harry shrugged, smiling apologetically. “I know.”

“So, you won’t come along to Fawley?” Pansy asked.

“No, I’ll try to hunt down possible curses that might fit with what happened to Emma. A visit to Malfoy Manor is in order, I think.” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible.

Ginny always told him that he should trust other people to help him. So, he would trust Pansy and Neville to handle Fawley, Dudley with the muggle stuff, Percy with the money end of this nasty business and Teddy with combing through the archive notes in the memory vault. Teddy’s research might give them additional hints as to who was to be trusted, unless the helps at the vault were always as careless as they had been when Harry went there.

And he would trust Narcissa Malfoy to be as obliging in sorting out dark magic as ever. He already had an idea how he might pay her back this time. And he could trust Ron to fulfil the role of the man with a grudge. Ron just needed to be Ron for that after all.

Since the vial he needed had vanished, he had to talk to other witnesses, and Narcissa might be willing to give him her memory. Prudy had been exceptionally unhelpful. That elf positively hated him. And she was in her rights to deny him. He could not coerce a free elf to give him her memories.

Harry sighed. He should have known that keeping that vial secret would bite him in the arse at some point. At the time it had seemed so logical. Keep that secret until Hermione had come to her senses. Only she never did. Or rather she had never been out of her senses. It was still difficult to admit even to himself that he had been well and expertly spoofed. And what grated him even more, that he never had found out who had tempered with Malfoy’s flat.

“Have you ever done something exceptionally bad and stupid and come to regret it in hindsight?”, he asked his friends.

Pansy stared at him. “Harry?”

Her voice sounded half worried and half playful. “You do remember that I foolishly demanded that McGonagall should deliver you to Voldemort? I think that would fall under that category.”

Harry gave an involuntary laugh. “I wasn’t talking about you.”

“We gathered as much,” Neville’s voice was playful as well. “You do realise that humans make mistakes, Harry. Even chosen ones.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”, he added.

James and Richard had told him that Neville was very good in gaining the students’ trust, and Harry felt a distinct pull to unburden himself. He shook himself out of his reverie.

“I deny everything, Professor Longbottom, I don’t want to get detention.”

“Such a pity, I would have loved to see you getting detention from a Gryffindor for breaking rules for once,” Pansy said. She sounded as if she was half-serious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another Harry PoV and mystery chapter .....


	50. Goblin silver at Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to untangle some of the questions with Narcissa's help.

When Harry arrived at the Manor, he almost thought he had come to the wrong place. The dining room was a mess. There were huge stacks of books lying around, ready to be packed.

Harry pretended that nothing was amiss. He had learned from earlier visits, that it was better to go with Narcissa’s explanations just in case. Narcissa had dodged the side effects of the cut out for almost two decades after all and as far as Harry knew **she** had never been thrown out of the house.

He gave Narcissa the pale pink roses he had brought as a gift, the cake he had purchased at the street shop of Fortescue and Miller.

“I know you have plenty of roses in your garden, but I do think the colour suits you.”

Harry gave her a bow. “And I have bought this cake. It is from a muggle caterer, but apparently it is very good, and a huge success. I had a taste of it myself at Neville’s and Pansy’s wedding and it is delicious. Chocalate-lemon flavour. I left their card in the bag. There is a number on that card. Muggles have these devices they call phones and they use the numbers and then they speak to each other.” She would have to puzzle this out. Harry did not dare to show her how it worked.

Narcissa smiled. “How thoughtful of you, Mr. Potter. Pardon the mess. I’ll make some tea before you can tell me why you came.”

“I donated some of the books of our library to Hogwarts,” Narcissa told him, with a wave of her hand over the book stacks. “The headmaster wrote to me and it seems that they are sadly lacking in some important fields.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Some books, I see,” he remarked.

“The Head girl even wrote me a thank you letter.” Narcissa beamed.

“Did she?” Harry blinked, wondering how a letter by Rina Granger-Malfoy had reached Narcissa safely.

Narcissa’s instinct were well tuned to Harry’s unspoken question. “She just wrote as the Head Girl. She didn’t even bother to give a name. I got the feeling she coerced the Head Boy into adding a few lines and she sent a photo with some students from every house.”

She smiled and showed Harry the photo.

“Students from every house.” That was technically true. Rina Granger-Malfoy with her co-head, siblings and a friend from Ravenclaw would also be an accurate description. The children sat in the sun at the Lake and waved happily. Leave it to the Malfoys to find loopholes. Harry shook his head, but he also had to fight a smile. The books were priceless, old, dusty tomes, probably unique Harry was sure. Another way to reduce the Malfoy fortune.

Narcissa went off to prepare tea and Harry was surprised, when she came back into the living room with a huge teapot.

“Mrs Malfoy, I cannot possibly drink that much tea.” Harry protested.

“I am expecting some goblins. It’s not all for you.”

“Do you intend to throw a tea party for goblins?”, Harry asked.

Narcissa shook her head. “It has recently come to my attention, that goblins have quite a different concept on ownership and possession than we, witches and wizards, have.”

She pointed at the silver dishes that were on display in the cupboards of the dining room.

“Can you imagine that all this goblin made silver wasn’t really in the possession of the Malfoys? If you accept the goblins’ idea on possessions, we just borrowed it and the gold we gave for them was just a fee.”

She calmly stirred milk and sugar into her tea.

“As it happens, Pumka, a goblin silversmith contacted me just about the time I had become aware of this very interesting fact in a conversation with an international expert on magical beings. Pumka will arrive shortly to discuss the conditions of the return. It happens that the goblins are keen on retrieving old goblin made silver. They claim that they have lost some of their abilities in metalworking and want to hone their skills by studying their old craft.”

She raised the teacup to her lips. “They are so eager to get their hands on the old goblin silver that they would even forego suing me for centuries of fees, the Malfoys neglected to pay for the continuous use of the goblin silverware.”

She sipped slowly and put the cup back on the saucer. “That would hardly be fair though. I want to pay my debts, don’t you agree Mr. Potter? And I had my fair share of trials. It is not as if I would set a precedent. I will be careful to avoid that.”

Harry was flummoxed. “I do have my doubts if other wizarding families will follow the same policy of being so lenient with their money, but it makes perfect sense for you.”

“Oh yes, it does, after all money is not that important. I recently read in the Daily Prophet that wizards have heated discussion on money and happiness and how they are connected in public. It even came to brawls, if you can believe that.”

Harry laughed out loud, even coming close to tears by the description of Ron’s and Malfoy’s brawl as a philosophical discussion. He wiped his eyes. “I got a firsthand account by several eyewitnesses. No bones were broken.”

“I am glad to hear that. We should be civilised after all.”

She opened the box with the cake, cut it and served a piece to Harry.

“If you happen to learn more about why the goblins are so eager about the old silver, I would be very much obliged, if you could tell me. I have a case that might involve goblins.” Harry could not see how this might tie in with the money laundering, but it never hurt to look for connections. He sipped from his own tea. As always it was a most delicious blend. Mixed with the cake it was a treat.

“I have a theory,” Narcissa said. “This silver is older than the goblin rebellion. When goblins made them, they were still allowed to use wands. And that in turn makes the silver more ready to absorb spells and charms.”

“Like the enchantment on the sword of Gryffindor, that makes it absorb the magic of the defeated.”

Narcissa nodded.

Harry would have to ponder this. He doubted that it was good news if goblins indeed needed spellabsorbable silver. He remembered that cursed jewellery often was of goblin origin. The cursed necklace that had almost killed Katie Bell came to his mind.

If goblins wanted to re-buy goblin made trinkets all over the country, they needed money. And he was certain, that no other wizarding family would give them money in addition to returning the silver. So, the need for money was a given, the question remained why.

When they had finished their pieces of the cake which was just as delicious as Harry remembered, Narcissa finally asked what had brought him to the Manor.

“I need one of your memories. When my friends and I were brought here by Snatchers and we escaped, Severus Snape saved your life and the life of…. others.”

Narcissa suppressed a shudder. “Not a pleasant memory.”

“I know, and I am sorry. The involved house elf would barely even talk to me, and I’ve already asked Severus’ portrait in Hogwarts, but it was one of the spells he developed after he had prepared his portrait. He was in haste when he prepared the portrait and he had focused on what he had to tell me about the horcruxes. Some of his inventions are lost.”

“As are some of the inventions he initiated,” Narcissa remarked. “or potions. He was a skilled potions master after all.”

Harry would not be side-tracked by discussion on the Phoenix potion. “I’m certain he didn’t teach it to anyone as it is potentially very dangerous. I think he used it that day, though…..” Harry let his voice trail off, before he was tempted to say Malfoy’s name. He could hardly call Draco ferret or Malfoy in Narcissa’s hearing.

“The spell that seemingly syphons magical strength from one person to another?”

“Yes, that’s the very one.”

“Whatever he did, he used it nonverbally.”

“I know, but I wanted to have a look. It might give me a clue.”

“Has someone used this spell?”

Harry nodded. “And if my suspicion is correct, a muggleborn child of ten has died because of it.”

“If muggleborn children were introduced earlier to wizarding society crimes like that might be prevented,” Narcissa remarked.

Harry blinked rapidly, his eyes widening.

“Why do you look so surprised, Mr Potter? You’ve come for years to pick my brain, to get my help in fighting dark magic. You can’t be surprised that I have changed some of my opinions. There is a muggleborn witch whose name keeps slipping my mind who makes very valid points about muggleborns in the Quibbler.”

She poured herself more tea, her mouth set in a hard line.

“I apologize, Mrs Malfoy” Harry was contrite. “It makes absolute sense that a woman of your intelligence would be convinced by sound arguments.”

She mellowed at his compliment.

Harry winked at her. “It might be an excellent idea to fund projects that try to remedy that horrid situation.”

“That, Mr Potter, is an excellent idea.”

She stood. “Let’s have a look at that memory.”

She led him to the Malfoy pensieve and she even accompanied him when he looked in.

Afterwards they agreed that the spell Severus had used had a turquoise hue that suggested that it was not inherently malevolent but could be used like that.

“Not deadly per se,” Narcissa concluded. “Potentially deadly if all magic is drained.”

“Or if one would manage to perpetuate the spell.” Harry frowned. They really needed to find that carrier.

“I am sure, that Severus had an idea about that as well.”

“I really wish we could see Draco’s memory of the application of his _scutum_.” Harry spoke his thoughts out loud in his frustration.

He barely heard Narcissa’s cry before the house threw him out. He landed on the pavement in front of the manor’s gates, bruises and scratches all over him in a matter of seconds.

Harry cursed his own stupidity. He waved his wand and sent his _patronus_ back into the manor to tell Narcissa that he was unharmed and that he would return at the earliest opportunity, when the house had settled down. He groaned when he picked himself up. Experience told him that he could not hex these bruises away. He would carry them as a reminder of his stupidity.

“Almost forty,” he mumbled to himself. “And I still don’t know when not to speak a name out loud. Should have called him ferret after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks lovelies for your comments. I appreciate that very much.


	51. Duty soliciting (September 22, 2001)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco awaits the meeting with the person assigned to his defence

Draco was sitting in a provisional cell. He had told the aurors several times that they could not transport him in the usual ways. They had not believed him. It had taken them about ten tries to side-along him and five tries to portkey him until they had finally accepted, that the only way to bring him to Azkaban would be on a broom or on a Thestral, a long and tedious journey to a windy and rainy island in the middle of nowhere.

Since he was not yet tried and sentenced, they had decided to keep him in an abandoned bureau in the auror department. Harry Potter had been the one to suggest muggle handcuffs. Draco shook his head. Of course, it had been his luck to walk into newly appointed aurors at the Leaky Cauldron. He had hoped, that he would have a chance to bring Hermione’s parents personally to her before being apprehended. At least some of her friends had been there. Draco supposed that Luna Lovegood could focus long enough to lead the Grangers to their daughter.

Fortunately, he had something to do. Longbottom who was an auror now had agreed to give him paper and pencil, so that he could draw. Aurors were wary around him. No matter how often he explained to them, that he could not use his magic, no matter how often they tried to hit him with a spell or a hex, they still did not seem to get the principle of “nothing in, nothing out”. The _scutum_ spell was still a secret. He had decided not to explain further, at least before he had talked with his lawyer. Maybe a new spell would give him leverage to negotiate his sentence.

He sighed. The Weasel had informed him with glee that he would not have a choice in who would represent him at court. He would get a duty solicitor. It was decided that death eaters should get no chance to buy themselves out of a sentence as they had done the last time Voldemort had been around.

They still had a right to be defended. That did not console Draco though. He would probably get a lawyer who had just finished his or her training. Someone with no name, someone who needed the money, and only would do the bare minimum.

They should have sent someone already. It was his third day in custody after all, but the rights of death eaters were not high on the ministry’s priority list. No visitors were allowed until they had reached a conclusion on his ‘condition’, as they called it. They had not yet realised, that Prudy could visit him, simply by apparating, and Draco had no intention of telling them.

Arthur Weasley as minister of magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt as head auror, his father out of grace, under house arrest and wandless. And Saint Potter and the Weasel as favourite pets of the auror department, on top of Longbottom. None of these developments had really come as a surprise. The only surprise and a nice one had been that Pansy had survived the Battle of Hogwarts and had just finished training at the auror department. She had visited him once, but only with another auror, and Draco had assured her, that she owed him nothing. Still, he had the suspicion that she had instigated the return of his paper and pencil. It was not easy to draw with handcuffs, but it was possible.

So, when the door to his ‘cell’ opened and an auror he did not know announced, that his solicitor had arrived, Draco kept his eyes on his papers. It was tricky to draw curls after all. He heard the door close and a scraping sound told him that the solicitor had taken a chair.

It was the smell, that alerted him. A note of cinnamon, a sharp refreshing lemony overtone and just a hint of fresh paper.

The pencil fell out of his hand, even before he raised his eyes and he saw her. He felt as if he had been hit. His heart began to beat painfully in his chest. The blood left his head, making him nauseous and then returned with a sudden rush that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Hermione.”

After that words failed him. He could hear his own breath, loud in his ears, but he could do nothing but stare and drink her in. The woman he had remembered amidst the chaos that was his memories, the woman he had thought to be just a fabrication of his imagination for the last three years, sat there, in flesh and blood, far more beautiful than his drawings, living and breathing.

“Hello Draco,” she said, an uncertain smile tugging at her lips. “I’m your legal counsel.”

“How is that possible?” His mind reeled.

“I just got my licence this August. You’re my first official case.”

He shook his head. “Longbottom told me you’ve gone into law. But wouldn’t you… I mean, I think… I …”

He stopped himself, trying to focus. “I couldn’t be that lucky, could I? To get you as a duty solicitor?”

He thought he could positively feel his cheeks burning. Maybe all their interactions hadn’t been that important for her. She was engaged to the Weasel after all. He shouldn’t presume that, just because they had kissed, she would feel as he did.

She laughed. Draco could have wrapped himself in her laugh. It made him want to laugh along.

“Judge Prewett specifically wanted me, and when I asked, if he did not think that I would be biased,…”. Her cheeks began to burn in a way that made Draco’s heart clench. “I mean with us being classmates and so… And you brought my parents back….”

She inhaled slowly. “Anyway, he told me that he has confidence in my professionalism. And that the wizarding world is so small, that classmates is not a hindrance. Many things are not a hindrance as long as they are addressed.”

Draco could hardly believe his luck. “I was led to believe that I would only get a sham of defence.”

“Prewett told me to best start my career with a win.” Hermione grinned.

“A win?,” Draco raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be lucky if I get less than five years.”

“I want to plead that you defected. Your mother defected and got a year of house arrest and wandban and two additional years of probation. By now she is a free woman.”

“My mother defected?” That was news.

“Yes, she lied straight to Voldemort’s face, telling him Harry was dead, when he was not, and she did not fight in the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“She’s free? That means she can visit me?” Draco asked.

Hermione shook her head. “Not before there has been an official decision about your ‘condition’ as it is called.”

“I see, … my ‘condition’.” He had almost forgot about the _scutum_. His high spirits plummeted. What would Hermione make of that?

“Draco, you’d best start telling me everything. No secrets. I am your legal counsel.” Hermione unpacked papers and prepared to make notes.

“Hermione, I…. “, he started and then he stopped himself. His legal counsel. That is how she saw her role. His heart was pounding against his rib cage, each beat a pain that singed him. ‘She forgot me. It was never more than some kisses,’ the rhythm of his heart whispered into his brain.

He ran his hands through his hair, wondering if he should have stayed hidden away in Muggle London, finding some other way to bring her parents to her, some other way to see her than to resurface in the wizarding world.

“I hardly know where to start.” He looked at her, desperate for some sign, that he was more to her than a charity project, a duty, a step in her career.

Hermione returned his look and his heart took up speed again.

“You know, you could start with telling me where the hell you have been since the battle of Hogwarts.” Her eyes suddenly shimmered. “I thought you were dead. I don’t know how often I used the _querio_ charm to find you.”

She pressed her hands together. “Your parents used a blood spell, but that did not show where you were either, just that you might be alive.”

“I thought you were just an imagination of my broken mind.” Draco whispered.

They looked at each other for a long time, searchingly letting their eyes wander over each other’s faces.

Draco felt like he was hanging over an abyss just by a thread. Thinking about her had been easy, as long as he thought of her as an image, a mirage, something that gave him hope, the girl of his dreams, but not a reality. He had decided to opt for the reality, even if it meant that he might be thrown into prison and fight an uphill battle to be with her. That was better than staying in a dream.

Now, she was here, and she was her own person, and he suddenly knew that if he would not find the right words, he would fall into the abyss, and nothing would save him. She would defend him to the best of her abilities, and they would part ways after. He thought of all the things he had learned in the Muggle world.

“You know, you’d best start at the beginning.” Hermione said, in an attempt to be playful.

“I need to say something before that,” Draco licked his lips.

“I’ll listen.”

“You need to know, that to me the beginning is you, it has always been you. And if you want to listen to the beginning, I should speak of that. But if that displeases you, I will be silent on this subject forever.”

Hermione stared at him. For a long torturous moment, he could hear her shallow breathing.

“Pride and Prejudice,” she finally said. “You’ve read ‘Pride and Prejudice’.”

Draco smiled. “I watched the series, first. I somehow thought it fits us, even if FitzWilliam Darcy would be a better man than me, if he existed. But in a world without Voldemort?”

He could see her swallowing.

“Draco,” her voice was a ghost of a whisper. “I want you to tell me.”

“I only regained some of my memories a few days ago, but sitting here I had a lot of time to think.”

He inhaled deeply, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s face.

“You were at the beginning of my doubts about the ideas I grew up with. I was told that Muggleborns were stupid, inferior, and ugly, and there you were, right before my eyes. Always better than me, beautiful and smart. You were the living proof that what I thought was wrong.”

“You’ve told me you never hated me, Draco,” Hermione smiled. “Remember, that night in the hospital wing? Although it might have been a dream.”

“I stored that away.” Her face told him, that the kiss they had shared that night might have been good. He knew it had happened, but he only remembered their kisses in the Room of Hidden things.

“And you had friends, who laughed with you, and you ignored me. I was accustomed to being at the centre of my world, to being fawned over. And I could not bear that. I made you notice me….” He stopped. “In the worst possible way.”

He laughed awkwardly, when she sat still. “I am so sorry for that.”

“It was only after I finally worked it all out, that I knew that I did not want to follow him, that I did not want to become one of his killers. You became the centre of my hope then. Your survival. If it hadn’t been for you, I might never have seen through all his hypocrisy. I might have become a killer. I did not have enough of a moral compass just by myself.”

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, not daring to look at her. “I do not expect anything. But know that I am grateful to you. You made me better than I was.”

Hermione did not answer, and Draco did not open his eyes again. He still was hanging by a thread. He wondered if he would physically fall, when the abyss claimed him.

He felt her hand on his, and his eyes snapped open. Her eyes glistened.

“You saved me that day at the manor, saved me from insanity. And I think your potion saved my life several times during the battle. And you brought my parents, although it meant you were arrested.”

“I hadn’t exactly planned on being arrested,” Draco admitted.

“You might not expect anything, but ….” She interrupted herself and bit her lip, wiping at her eyes.

Draco raised his hands and tried to reach for her face despite the handcuffs. She let her head fall to the side just so, that her cheek touched the back of his left hand.

“I’ve thought you were lost to me. I’ve never regretted anything as intensely as leaving you in front of the Room of Hidden Things. We should have stayed together. Should have gotten through the battle together.”

He could feel his left hand twitching slightly with the excitement of feeling her skin.

“We’re here now,” he said.

Hermione smiled at him, a single tear made its way down her cheek, hitting his thumb.

“I don’t have all eternity to speak with you, and I should get some notes for your defence.” Her eyes held some regret as if she could imagine better pastimes.

She took his hands and placed them firmly on the table between them. She took her pen for notes, but not before she had quickly brushed his hands.

“Now you’d best start with the day you were forced to take the mark when Voldemort threatened your mother.”

Draco left nothing out. Reliving the ordeal that had been his sixth year was painful, but piecing his seventh year together from the bits and pieces he did remember even if he could not conjure any pictures to his mind was exhausting. It made his head hurt and some details were probably lost forever.

Hermione’s frown deepened the longer he talked. Draco could see that she had hoped for more evidence that she could use.

“So, to sum up: You were in an understanding with Snape, the double agent, but Snape is dead and cannot testify for you. You stored the memories of your conspirative meetings in a vial currently with your elf, which you sealed with the _scutum_ spell, a spell hitherto unknown. Only you yourself could undo this spell, but you are unable to do it because you yourself were hit with a _scutum_ spell that was applied via a carrier your elf threw on you, a carrier of again unknown origin. As long as you are under the _scutum_ you can tell what happened but there is no chance you can give your memories to a pensieve – which might not be accepted in court anyway, because memories can be tempered with. Also, it is likely that _veritasserum_ cannot be administered to you, again because of the _scutum_.”

“You secretly prepared a potion, the Phoenix Potion, that splits the effect of the _scutum_ , depending on how it is used. Nobody but Snape, who is dead, knew you were working on that potion. Circumstantial witnesses might be your own parents, and Slughorn if he remembers you stole ingredients. And a Ravenclaw girl whose name you cannot remember. You cannot brew that potion again, because you tempered with your memory deliberately, so that Voldmort would not discover your plans. At the day of the Battle of Hogwarts you hid your notes on the potion and again stored that memory away, but somewhere else and with Goyle’s wand. You have no idea where that vial is, nor where the notes are. The batch of the potion you successfully brewed, was used up to save people in the Battle of Hogwarts, but you acted under an disillusionment charm, so that only some people might have seen you and they might not have realised what you did, because again, nobody knew about the Phoenix Potion.”

“So, the only people who could positively testify for you, are your former house elf and a pupil whose name you don’t remember. There is Snape’s portrait, but he might not have included memories on his plan B when he made the portrait and even though it is possible he made a memory stash for you, we have no idea where that might be.”

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’ll be going to Azkaban, won’t I?”

When he looked up, Hermione pressed her lips together in a thin line. She had a very determined look about her. “Don’t give up hope. I am sure there is circumstantial evidence that supports your story. And the most important thing is, that you never killed anybody.”

“I did use the _Imperius_ on Rosmerta and cast the _cruciatus_ when the Carrows ordered me.” Draco whispered, downcast.

“When you cast the _Imperius_ you were underage, and everybody knows the Carrows coerced everyone. We can get around that. None of the seventh years of 1998 were sentenced for that, not even Goyle.”

Hermione pressed his hands. “I still think, we can claim you defected, at the very least on the day, Harry, Ron and I were brought to Malfoy manor. You failed to identify Harry, although you clearly knew who he was, and you saved me. And you called Snape.”

“Who is dead, as you’ve repeatedly reminded me.”

Hermione scowled not caring for his attempt at flippancy.

“Yes, but your parents will remember, that he came although they did not call him.”

“It’s such a shame, my testimony wouldn’t be admitted.” Hermione said. “Not in regard to what happened at the manor, at least. I was subject to the _cruciatus_ and I am therefore an unreliable witness.”

“But I thought the _scutum_ worked? You told me it had worked when we met in the Room of Hidden Things.”.

Draco shuddered, when Hermione’s screams came to his mind. When he had put away his memory on casting the _scutum_ so that Voldemort did not find it, he had left a vivid image of Hermione screaming. Voldemort would have been suspicious if he had found nothing in his supposed follower’s mind. Draco could not have known at that time, that he would never be brought before Voldemort again.

“Yes, it did. But nobody believes me. I’ve been telling my friends for years, that you saved me, but they think that my recollection is warped because of the _cruciatus_ …. Apparently, it is fairly common for victims to be in denial and to fantasize about someone helping them. It is a way of the mind to protect itself.”

Draco felt irritation at her friends. “I nearly burned the magic right out of me.”

“You don’t need to convince me.” Hermione reassured him.

She made a knot of her hair and put her pen through it. “You know, when Prewett offered me the defence, I had to decide. Either I could be an unreliable witness for the defence, or I could try my best to keep you out of prison as your solicitor.”

She looked at him, pleading for understanding. “My testimony on the day we were captured would be worthless and they would probably say the same about the Phoenix Potion you gave me. And I could not ask you what you prefer.”

Colour crept into her cheeks. “And if I had chosen to stand as witness, I would not have been able to see you.”

Draco’s pulse jumped up to a rapid speed. He could not rein his emotions in any longer. “You wanted to see me?”

His voice sounded strange in his ears, filled with his raw need.

Their eyes locked.

“Prudy said your engaged. You’re engaged to the Weasel, aren’t you?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought you were dead. I would have mourned what could have been all my life, but I wanted to …. “

She took a shuddering breath. “Yesterday, I told Ron, I want to postpone.”

He felt like she had hit him. “Postpone?”

She lowered her head. “I told him that I want to fix the situations with my parents first. But in reality, I am just a coward.”

He understood then. He had hesitated to ask Prudy to tell him the truth. A leap over the abyss might end in a fall after all.

“You’re not a coward,” he scoffed. “You lied to my aunt. You battled Voldemort. You …”

Before he could continue the door to his cell opened and one of the aurors led in a middle-aged man Draco did not know.

“Miss Granger, what are you doing here?” the man asked, irritation plainly written on his face.

Hermione pulled herself together very quickly. Draco almost smiled. Condescending did not go well with his girl.

“I am consulting with my client, doing my job as duty solicitor,” she stated firmly. “I might as well ask you what **you** do here, Mr Sloane.”

“As the prosecutor you are not allowed to speak to the accused unless in court. Surely you learned that in your training!”, the man sneered.

“I was assigned the defence, and I am consulting with my client.” Hermione’s voice was clipped, no trace of her emotions from earlier detectable.

“Prewett just gave me the defence,” the other man said.

“He gave me the defence this morning. When I registered in August, I gave ‘defence’ as my preference.”

The man had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Prewett wanted you to do the prosecution. Why would you of all people, muggleborn extraordinaire, want to defend a death eater?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Because under wizarding law, everyone has a right to be defended.”

“Well, I’ll care for the defence for this sorry excuse of a wizard then…. If he can be even called a wizard.” Sloane regarded Draco with disdain, as if he were a cockroach that had dared to come to the light.

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her. “Then, Mr Sloane, I am sorry to inform you, that you are too late. I have already consulted with my client and we have agreed on the verdict we are trying to aim at. You can’t just take over my case.”

“And pray what verdict is that? Are you going for guilty and a shorter sentence for full cooperation and turning himself in? Good luck with that.”

Hermione’s eyes flashed. “You are not entitled to get an answer to that. I will not disclose my angle to you. And since you are obviously not doing the defence you shouldn’t even be here.”

Mr Sloane did not receive this answer with grace. “Ms Granger, you think that scoring the highest grades for decades in your lawyer’s degree is the equivalent to thirty years of courtroom experience.”

He snorted. “You might be the minister’s pet and Harry Potter’s friend but that means nothing in the courtroom. It will be my pleasure to see you and your praised intellect being cut down some notches when you are confronted with the realities of a trial. No law theory paper will help you there.”

He made to leave and turned at the door, giving her a false smile, and ignoring Draco altogether. “I think I will see myself to that. I guess the job of the prosecution on the Draco Malfoy trial is still open, after all.”

When he had slammed the door, Hermione let herself fall into her chair again. Her lips trembled. She wiped her eyes angrily.

Draco wondered, if her tears were due to her anger or to the fact that she had just had a taste of the crooked wizarding law system. Draco knew all about it. His father had taken advantage often enough.

He mustered his courage, brought his own chair close to her and clumsily tried to dry her cheeks with his cuffed hands.

“Hey, there…. You’ll wipe the courtroom floor with his arse, won’t you?”

“Prewett told me that it would be an easy win, the first of a hopefully long career. His question about my bias was not about being biased in your favour…. They already decided that this will end with you in prison, didn’t they?”

She banged her fist on the table. “What did we fight for, if nothing changed? The ministry is still corrupt and prejudiced and…. This should be about justice, not about revenge.”

Draco took her fist in his hands, and untangled it, stroking each of her fingers.

“You know, Granger, I can see how they thought you would be biased against me. It must be common knowledge that we didn’t get along in school. Have you even told anybody about us, I mean, you told Potter and the Weasel about how I cast the _scutum_ on you, but otherwise?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never told anybody. I…. It is not that I was ashamed, but I didn’t think anybody would believe me…. And then I thought you were dead.”

He smiled at her. “Might I suggest a Slytherin approach then? Play the valiant defender of justice, even if it means defending your school enemy, play the ‘I collect any evidence in favour of my client’ lawyer, play the ‘I am going to bend the courtroom to my will, no matter the cost’ solicitor.”

He kissed the knuckles of her hand. “And this, us, the night in the hospital wing, I do not remember clearly, our kisses in the Room of Hidden things, they stay between us. And what we make of it, we’ll decide after the trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the people who read this, subscribe and leave nice comments..... This is a long and important chapter and will hopefully give you all the Dramione feels.
> 
> @nikitajobson was kind enough to accept a commission and made a beautiful pic for this chapter. Check out their tumblr with beautiful art!


	52. Parent - teacher conference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville gives Pansy the opportunity to infiltrate at the Fawley's.

The house elf that opened the door of Fawley’s grand villa wore a nice livery. House elves nowadays did not wear rags any longer, but their rich wizarding families still showed that the elves belonged to them, even if they got wages and free days. This particular house elf had a haughty look about him, as if his employer’s conceitedness had rubbed off. Even Neville’s charming smile could not soften his mien.

“I would like to speak to Mr Fawley.”

“You are not expected, Mr …” The Elf stated.

“Longbottom, It’s Longbottom.” Neville gave the elf a small nod. “No, I am not, but I’m sure, Mr Fawley will want to see me. I think he wanted to advise me on my teaching methods.”

Pansy suppressed a snort. They had agreed that Neville would do anything to give them access to Fawley’s house, but she did not have to like Neville belittling himself.

The elf bade Neville to wait and shut the door again. It did not take him long to return, and Neville was led into the house, Pansy practically glued to his heels under Harry’s cloak.

Fawley welcomed Neville in his living room and the elf was sent to prepare tea. Mrs Fawley joined them. She was all graceful hostess, but Pansy had a look at her hands and saw that Mrs Fawley seemed to have a habit of biting her nails.

Neville began chit-chatting about this and that. He really piled on with his herbology interest and involved Mrs Fawley in a lengthy discussion about her roses and all other plants in the garden. Somehow, he had recognised them all on their walk through the garden.

Pansy knew she should make good use of the time her husband bought her, and she tiptoed out of the living room thankful for her silent slippers.

Dudley had told her what to look for. If Fawley used a phone regularly, he would probably have electricity somewhere and there were tools to look for wires in the wall. Pansy hoped that the magic in the house would not disrupt her search. She was thankful that the Fawleys were not notorious for hording objects of black magic. She shuddered at the thought of doing a search like this in a house like Malfoy Manor.

It took her a while to find a wire in the walls. She quickly checked her wedding band if Neville had alerted her to an end of his parent-teacher talk, but she still had some time. Neville had promised her three quarters of an hour at the very least.

She followed the wire, her wand at the ready, searching for wards. She chanced upon several, but nothing she could not dismantle temporarily. A very handy spell if you did not want an intrusion to be detected. She had worked that out with Hermione’s help, after Neville and her had seen her howler response. It was a question of finding the magical signature and repeating it. It was complicated, but it could be done.

She almost overlooked the door, that was charmed to look like the wallpaper, if she had not been attuned to Fawley’s signature. Behind the door was a small study, and there she found the phone, connected to the sock or socket or wherever electricity came out.

She took her bag and opened it to get the small piece of paper that held Dudley’s instructions. She wiped the phone and it came to life.

‘ _Most people are stupid and take their birthday as their pin_.’, Dudley had said. It had taken Pansy quite a while to realise that pin was an acronym and stood for Personal Identification Number…. She doubted she would have ever worked that out if she had not been around acronym crazy friends for years.

She tried Fawley’s birthday and the phone sprang to life. Pansy allowed herself to sigh in relief.

Fortunately, Dudley’s instructions were detailed enough that she could work through them step by step. She nervously checked her ring, but Neville still had not sent any message. She found the ‘store’ on the phone, just like Dudley had shown her. She almost panicked when she realised that she had to pay for the gadget. Thankfully, she remembered Neville’s plastic muggle card and paid for the gadget with that.

By the time she had ‘installed’ the gadget, deleted the information on Neville’s plastic card, and had hid the picture of the newly bought programme on another page of the phone Fawley hopefully would never check, she was drenched in sweat.

She checked her wedding band and saw that it was high time to leave. On her way out she replicated the wards with Fawley’s signature. She tried to slow herself. All would be for nothing if she were sloppy. Going through the moves of Fawley’s signature she could feel an idea forming in her head, that had to do with the case, but for the moment it eluded her. She would try to dig into that later.

Neville stood in the entrance, stalling by pretending to search for the umbrella ‘he was sure he had brought’. Pansy briefly touched his shoulder, drawing an x, so that he knew she was ready. Neville’s shoulder felt tense to her fingers, and she sensed that he was livid with anger.

On the way out, his long legs almost outran her, as if he could not get away soon enough.

He apparated as soon as he had left the estate without even waiting for her to side-along. She chose to put more distance between herself and the house lest the Fawleys heard two tell-tale apparition cracks instead of one.

Thus, when she arrived at their house, Neville should have had some time to cool off. He was still fuming though, stomping around the house in such anger as Pansy had rarely ever witnessed.

“What is it, love?” Pansy was worried.

Neville banged his fist on their table. “Why do such people even have children? I swear that man gives the impression of positively **detesting** his own daughter. Just because she’s in Hufflepuff. Matilda is a sweet child, much too timid for her own good. She doesn’t deserve such a father.”

He screamed inarticulately.

“Why do people get children if they are not prepared to love them no matter what? Why? Why do the gods above if they exist decide to give them children at all? When they have no idea what a gift that is? Their daughter does not live up to their expectation, so they belittle her instead of supporting her.” He banged his fists on the table again.

“Why is it so damn unfair?”

Pansy felt tears well up in her eyes. She ran to Neville, and he bent down and swept her into his arms, burying his face into her shoulder.

“I know, love,” she whispered. “The only thing we can do is not to be unfair ourselves.” They held each other tightly for a long time, their tears mingling, the success of their infiltration momentarily forgotten in their shared grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, Pansy and Neville keep creeping in...   
> Obviously this chapter is also important for the mystery.
> 
> I am somewhat sorry, that Fawley whose name I picked randomly from the list of the sacred 28 for the sole reason, that we know nothing about the family at all, is such a villain in my fic....  
> But, we need villains don't we?


	53. A loophole (March 14, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to take precautions against a possible Azkaban sentence for Draco

Hermione leaned into Draco’s neck, her breath ghosting over his skin, her lips tingling with the kisses they had shared, she could feel the heat in her cheeks and Draco’s heartbeat in his pulse. She chided herself for being so easily distracted. She had plans after all for this lawyer - accused consultation.

“Did I mention that it looks like we already decided what to do about this…” she pointed at him and at herself.

Draco bent down to kiss the corner of her mouth, his tongue quickly dabbing at her lips, teasing her to open her mouth. His eyes were burning with need. Hermione did not indulge him. It was not that she distrusted her wards or feared that Draco would get a visitor, but she had allowed him to distract her far too often.

“Sometimes our path is clear before us.” he whispered into her ears. “It’s easy for me. I just want to make the most of the little time we have.”

Hermione straightened herself. “You don’t believe we’ll win?”

“It’s not for lack of your trying, Granger. I could not wish for a more determined solicitor.” Draco’s smile had a hint of sadness to it. He let his fingers trail over her face. “It’s just that I think I have used up all my luck and I try to prepare for the worst. And we both know it depends on Potter’s testimony. If his testimony turns out as bad as Weasley’s, it’s Azkaban for me.”

Hermione’s heart clenched. She did not want to think about the possibility of Draco going to Azkaban. But she did. It had always been her way. Think about the worst outcome she could fathom and find a solution for that. Think about how their wands would be taken if the secret meeting against Umbridge would be told on? Jinx the list where everybody put his name. Fearing her parents would be victims of Voldemort? Sent them to Australia. Expect to be on the run for a while? Enchant a small bag with and expendable charm. She would turn around the scenarios in her head, until she found an angle and a solution. She had yet to find a solution for the Harry problem, as she called it in her head, although she had worked out a minor solution of what to do, if Draco were sent to Azkaban.

“He could tip the scales in my favour simply by telling the truth. The only question is if he’ll do it. It will be his word that decides if I’ll be known as another defector like my mother or if I’ll be known as the man who tried to wriggle his way out of a just sentence and failed.”

Hermione nodded unhappily. She did not know what Harry would do. She was so uncertain about that, that the prosecution had called him as witness before her.

“Am I different?”, she asked, voicing her thoughts out loud. “Have I changed?”

Draco made a show of studying her.

“You do have a love bite, here. That was not there half an hour ago. You should remove that before you face the auror who is outside, even though you probably confunded him.” He pointed at her neck and chuckled when she playfully hit his arm.

His face became more serious when he realized it had been a genuine question. “I don’t think you have changed. You are still a bushy haired know-it-all.” He took one of her curls and twirled it in his fingers. “You have bewitched me, and I love you.”

He carefully stroked the curl and tucked it behind her ear. “I wonder how you worked your way around my _scutum_. I blame the unique Granger charms.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Hermione smiled at that. “It is just that nobody seems to understand. They don’t get why it would be wrong if you land in Azkaban. Well, everyone safe Luna perhaps. Luna is all talk about ‘every possible angle’. It frightens me what she comes up with… ”

Luna had tried to think about the problem of the conflicting evidence from all angles and her imaginative mind had come up at least with five other explanations than the two put forward by the defence and the prosecution. Five, Hermione knew about. Some of these were not to Hermione’s liking.

“She claimed that you might have been in possession of a time turner and that something went wrong and instead of living the same years twice you managed to skip the years you went missing. And you came back to turn the trial after planting evidence here and there.”

She raised her hand. “And don’t ask me how she thinks that worked. Ron seems to be in favour of that idea, though, or so I have heard.” She had had a terrible row with Ron after he had given testimony and they had not spoken since. Ron had informed her, that he would wait until she ‘came to her senses’.

After that she had thrown all her caution over board, all of hers and Draco’s ‘we will work this out after the trial’-intentions had melted like ice under the sun in an almost two-hour snogging session that had been very unhelpful for the case and highly satisfying in other regards.

Her fall-out with Ron, her commitment to Draco, even if secret, it all made things rather awkward with Ginny and Harry, but both seemed to think that Ron and Hermione’s relationship was still at the same level, meaning ‘wedding postponed until Hermione’s parents regain their memory’ and not ‘broken up’, despite Hermione’s insistence that she would not marry Ron. They seemed to think that she would come around as she had done every time, Ron and she had fought.

It hurt so much, that Draco’s absurd situation was a matter of jokes and speculations for her friends. Not that Luna had been joking. She was serious as ever, always convinced that her current idea was the correct idea.

“Luna actually stumbled upon the truth….”

“How so?”

“She seriously entertained the idea, that you are in love with me, that you always were in love with me…. Fortunately, that was the day after she had come to the conclusion, that you just have entered an unknown spiritual sphere via meditation and that explains your _scutum_. So, they all just laughed.”

“We were lucky that her testimony went so well … Imagine if she had said that in court…”

“My parents are the only ones who understand, but of course they don’t remember me complaining about the insufferable Malfoy git. They just think it is terribly unfair, that the nice young gentleman who reunited them with their daughter is threatened with prison…. “

She closed her eyes.

“And here I am complaining about my friends, when you might be sentenced to Azkaban.”

Draco grazed her closed eyelids with his lips and slowly made his way towards her mouth. Feeling her mood, he just gave her a quick peck though instead of deepening the kiss.

“Hermione, you might allow yourself to fear this outcome as much as I do. You might lose your friends over me, and you have a right to fear that. Even if you deserve better friends who believe you….”

“Luna does on her better days. And Neville…. I mean, I don’t think he fully understands, and I don’t think he really believes me, but he does not say so to my face.”

Hermione wiped angrily at her eyes. She would not cry again.

“At least I have a solution for one problem.”

Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.

“How I can ensure that I can visit you if you go to Azkaban… In the unlikely case you go to Azkaban,” she corrected herself determinedly.

Draco frowned. “I thought I had made it clear, that I don’t want you to do anything foolish. You can’t tell anyone about us. If you do that, it is still unlikely that you would be allowed to see me, and you certainly would be a pariah. The Daily Prophet is bad enough as things stand now. I read all those articles about how Hermione Granger does not thirst for justice but is full of delusions about the goodness of human nature and fell for ‘Malfoy’s repentant death eater act’. How you are too idealistic for your own good, easily duped… I could kill Skeeter for the things she writes about you.”

He looked into her eyes. “I am serious. It’s not worth it, Hermione. It would be horror to be in Azkaban and to know that you are ridiculed and detested. And still you would not be allowed to visit me. If I go to Azkaban, I want you to lay low.”

“Who would visit you?”

“My mother would. She visited me here.”

“And?”

Draco averted her eyes. “I am sure, many snakes would come and visit.”

She raised her hand to his chin and turned his face to her. “Who else, Draco?”

“Pansy might come. The others…. “ He harrumphed, obviously trying to steady his voice. “I think they can’t handle the whole _scutum_ situation. I could as well be a squib.”

His laugh had a bitter ring to it. “You and my mother are the only persons who don’t seem to think it’s contagious.”

“I could visit you, if we were married.”

“What?” His laughter had become more musical, this one was real.

“Did you just propose to me, Granger?” He shook his head. “You do realise that a marriage is not exactly what I mean by ‘laying low’.”

Hermione licked her lips. “If we would get married in a muggle registry, none would be the wiser. But I could produce a wedding certificate if I have to.”

“A muggle certificate. It would not be accepted. Muggle law is inconsequential in our world.”

She smiled smugly. “Not if the wedding is officially registered with the ministry. And any witch or wizard can get their marriage registered, even if it is a muggle certificate, if the partner is a muggle or a squib.”

She looked at his sceptical face. “I know technically you’re neither, but I could argue my way around that, I’m sure. I had a look at the exact wording of the law.”

“You mean that. You actually mean that.”

“Of course, I do, you git.” She was getting annoyed. Couldn’t he see that this was a loophole? “Don’t keep me dangling!”

“You want to marry me, just like that. Haven’t you forgotten something?”

“Forgotten something? Malfoy, I looked at every damn regulation about Azkaban and visitors! I did not forget anything!”

He had the nerve to laugh.

“You know that usually a proposal is accompanied by a declaration of love?”

Her anger left her in a surprised huff. She could feel her face becoming hotter.

“I….”

“Yes, that is how you should begin…”

She boxed his arm.

“That’s not right, Granger. Flowers is not the same as bruises.”

“You insufferable….,” she could have screamed.

“I love you, too, Hermione,” he whispered. His mouth found hers and his kiss was needy and passionate.

“I love you so much, Draco,” Hermione whispered into his lips when he let her go for a catch of breath. “I cannot, I cannot bear to be parted.”

“I wouldn’t know how, either,” he confessed.

Hermione pressed his hand. “So, let’s do it.”

“Now? How?”

“Yes, I’m prepared.”

“You’re prepared. Just like that. You’re prepared…. This is not an essay, Granger. You do realise that I cannot leave this so-called cell… We are lucky enough that they leave me alone with you. We are extremely lucky that nobody wants to be bothered to make a long flying tour to Azkaban with me or I would be brought there every evening.”

“That is why the Muggle registry has to come to us.” Hermione told him.

Draco studied her face. “To us,” he repeated.

“To us,” Hermione confirmed.

“You enlisted Prudy for this.”

Hermione grinned. “I might have. I also might have made a portkey for a muggle official that Prudy might deliver the moment I tell her to. He could arrive”, she checked her watch. “ in about fifteen minutes. He will be under the impression that we’ve come to him as appointed and after he has given us the certificate, he’ll be portkeyed back with this” She pulled a chewing gum wrap from her bag.

She looked at him, suddenly uncertain. “That is, if you say yes.”

“My luck hasn’t run out after all. I’m going to marry the love of my life. I am not strong enough to say no to that.” He stood, picked her up and whirled her around, his mouth seeking hers again.

***

It all went smoothly as planned. The muggle official arrived on time, an elderly man who didn’t make any fuss and finished the whole ceremony in ten minutes after Hermione had told him, that there would be a grand church wedding later. His speech for newly-weds was flat and monotonous, finished in less than five minutes.

Hermione greedily took the wedding certificate. She felt prepared now. If the worst happened, this would be her ticket to see Draco.

It was with a light mood, that she checked her watch, after the official had vanished again, slightly confunded, so that he would not question his experience.

“We still have almost half an hour, before I have to leave.” Hermione searched Draco’s mouth with her lips. “That is enough time to make this marriage effective.”

“You cannot be serious,” Draco answered. “Here? In my cell?”

“We can’t take any chances.” She wanted to sound reasonable, but her voice trembled. She was reassured by the sudden unevenness of Draco’s breath, and the intensity of his gaze.

“I know this is not the most romantic of settings, but we can’t afford loopholes. As conservative as wizarding society is, someone might argue lack of consummation against us. And if you’ll be a free man within the week, we can make up leeway on the romance.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually contemplating to agree. What do you do to me, Granger? My brain seems to be overwhelmed. And where should we do this deed?” Draco asked. “I can assure you that the mattress they put in here is a nightmare. And I am quite sure that there is a ward on it to prevent it from being transformed lest I become too comfortable.”

He scoffed. “They still don’t get the whole _scutum_ thing.”

His words were flippant, but his breath belied his nonchalance. His breath was uneven and ragged, and his voice was somehow deeper than usual. Hearing that kindled a fire in Hermione, her own breath seemed to reach deep into her core, carrying warmth and a need with it, that made her lightheaded.

They looked around. “The desk”, they said in unison.

***

It might not have been a very traditional wedding night, as wedding nights go, and not only because it was not night, but Hermione would not complain. Even on a desk, even with only twenty minutes, even with half their clothes still on, it had been wonderful, everything at once, tender and passionate, whispered words of love, sweat and heavy breathing, desire and need running wild and getting sated. It was far more than a simple act of desperation.

Draco had a dazed look about him when she said goodbye. There was colour in his pale face and Hermione was sure, that she had a flush in her cheeks as well. She cast some charms to get rid of evidence, and cast a charm that would make her unremarkable, just in case someone would notice her glow. She did not need to look in a mirror to know that she glowed. She felt beautiful, in high spirits, overflowing with love.

“See you in court,” she told Draco. “We will make it.”

His eyes bored into hers.

“Best, try not to look at me like that in court. I promise. When you walk out as a free man, we will have our honeymoon.” She touched his cheek. “And we will make more memories, so that you’ll never miss the one about our first kiss.”

“Hermione,” he caressed her name.

“Yes?”

“You need to cast a contraceptive.”

She had almost forgotten that.

She felt like she walked on clouds for the rest of the day. It was only when she lay in bed that the ‘Harry problem’ raised its head again and had her tossing and turning in worry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really hope all my lovely readers like this chapter... I tried to give nothing away with the title of the chapter. 
> 
> This is of course quite an important chapter.  
> Still rated T, I think?


	54. Visitors at Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione visit Hogwarts for some lessons.

Neville made his way to the Great Hall to get breakfast. It was still early. He wasn’t an early bird by choice, but he was a bit nervous about the lessons today. So far, his shared DADA lessons with Astoria had gone splendidly, but today they had rearranged the timetables to accommodate the _scutum_ lessons and Neville hoped it would work out.

He had made an effort to arrange the easiest classes in the morning. It would not do any good if he would start with third years and James Potter and Richard Weasley. So, they would start with the first and second years, go on with the older students who needed to cast the _scutum_ and would end with fourth and third year in the afternoon.

Draco in a good mood could be very charming and putting Lizzie and her classmates at the beginning would ensure that. Neville worried a bit about the Hufflepuffs. He had noticed that they had collected possible questions ever since he had announced Draco’s visit.

When he reached the Great Hall to get his breakfast, the Hufflepuffs met him halfway, streaming out of the hall, breakfast forgotten. That probably meant that they had spotted today’s visitors. Leave it to Hermione and Draco to be too early.

Neville shook his head at the Hufflepuffs clustering at the windows that looked out of the castle, pointing excitedly. Neville easily towered over half of them and he spotted his friends and his wife. Pansy patted the Thestrals that had brought them and slapped their rumps. Hermione and Draco had turned to the lake, walking hand in hand. The students at the windows were all abuzz, especially the girls, but some boys as well. Hufflepuff boys were more open about the reality of feelings than other houses.

Even though it was far quite far away, Neville could see Draco letting go of Hermione’s hand and picking up something. He must have thrown some stones that skidded over the water. The lake was calm today and the stones painted rings on the water that disturbed the mirror-like surface.

Pansy called out to them and they made their way to the castle. Neville told the Hufflepuffs in stern voice that they should get their breakfast. They obeyed only reluctantly and by the time Pansy, Draco and Hermione had entered the castle, at least one half of the Hufflepuffs was still outside the Great Hall.

Neville kissed Pansy and waved at his friends. They held hands again, so that Draco just raised his left hand and Hermione her right.

The students who tarried at the entrance did not even pretend that they wanted to enter the hall, but they were too shy to approach the visitors and the buzz had died down somewhat, so that everyone could hear what Draco said next.

“Granger, we have to savour this moment. Close your eyes for a moment.”

“Why?”

“Close your eyes and imagine an AU and AT situation.”

Hermione closed her eyes. “O.k. Please elaborate, Malfoy.”

“AU and AT?”, Neville asked. Sometimes Hermione’s and Draco’s tendency for acronyms left him clueless.

“Another universe, another timeline,” Draco quickly explained. “In that universe and time, I actually had the guts to ask you to dance with me at the Yule Ball. We would have danced and talked and at some point, we would have dated. And now imagine the looks we would have gotten from the Slytherins and Gryffindors while entering the Great Hall, hand in hand.”

Hermione opened her eyes and laughed. “So, you would have dated me in A.T. or A.U.?”

Draco smiled, oblivious to the students who listened in. “I think I would have loved you in any universe, Granger.”

Neville was sure, that this would make the rounds like wildfire in House Hufflepuff.

Pansy whispered in his ears. “Sometimes I think, he only has two modes. Sappy or sarcastic.”

“He has a way with words in both modes. And I can relate. I feel the same when it comes to you”, Neville whispered back. Pansy did him the favour to blush profusely.

They were interrupted by Lizzie who greeted her parents with enthusiasm.

“You are here already! There is still so much time before lessons. Will you come with me to the Hufflepuff table? Get some tea? Please, please, please!” Lizzie hopped up and down.

Nobody could have rejected that invitation, and finally the students filed into the Hall.

Hermione and Draco did indeed take seats with the Hufflepuffs and Neville saw Colin and Rina joining them. John Greggs, the Head Boy, stuck out his tongue to some classmates at the Slytherin table. Greggs pulled out some papers out of his robes and Neville suspected that these were the questions the Hufflepuffs had collected. He wondered if this would run smoothly or if Hermione and Draco would be incredibly annoyed. Neville suspected that some of the questions were a bit flippant.

He hesitated. For the moment, the Grangers were talking among themselves and Greggs had yet to get an opening. Pansy decided for him by taking a seat at Colin’s side and Neville joined them seating himself opposite his wife.

Lizzie was chatting happily as always, and it took several minutes before Greggs managed to interrupt.

“Mrs Granger-Malfoy, Mr Malfoy, would you allow me to ask some questions? On behalf of the students?”

Hermione looked at him and smiled “You must be John Greggs, the head boy. Well met.”

“What is this supposed to be?” Draco pointed with widened eyes at the stack of papers in Greggs’ hands.

“These are just some notes so that we won’t forget to ask the important questions. Your visit is a unique opportunity.”

“Notes?” Draco asked. “These aren’t just some notes. This is a fucking book. You cannot possibly have that many questions. A _scutum_ is not complicated.”

Lizzie giggled. “I doubt there are any questions about the _scutum_ , dad. That’s for class.”

Hermione took Draco’s hand. “I guess, this is due to our notoriety, love.”

Draco mumbled. “These be better no stupid questions.”

Hermione smiled at the head boy. “Shoot away!”

“Mrs Granger, is it true, that you support the Goblins’ rights for wands?”

“Yes, I do. Goblins have been allowed to work in only two fields after the Goblin rebellions: money and gold- and silversmithing. But they have many talents which are wasted in their current reduced circumstances. It is only logical that they should be allowed to work in whatever field they want and therefore they should have wands. The Goblin rebellions are centuries ago after all.”

“Do you have a connection to the Wands for Goblins movement?”

Hermione shook her head. “No. I represented several Goblin cases in court, but the W.f.G. as an organisation has never approached me.”

“Mr Malfoy, what do you think could be done for non-magical people in the magical world?”

“You mean squibs?”

“We try to avoid that word, since it might be seen as offensive.”

Draco laughed. “Well, that is a new development. I think they should get an education at Hogwarts.”

“Why?”

“Muggleborns should be introduced into the magical world earlier. They know nothing but the Muggle world and yet are expected to adapt immediately to the concept that things can be done with magic and to know all the rules. And squibs have it even worse. The very least the wizarding society could do is to teach them about the Muggle world. But they are left to fend on their own, not welcome in the magical world, and no idea how to live in the Muggle world.”

“But what would they learn at Hogwarts?”

“The obvious answer to that is ‘Muggle studies’. But it wouldn’t hurt either if there were some Muggle subjects taught in Hogwarts. Computers, languages….”

“Latin wouldn’t be very useful for squibs, but it would be useful for wizards, to invent new spells,” he added.

“Latin?”

“Yes, many spells are derived from Latin which is an interesting field in itself, but you get my point…”

John Greggs was furiously scribbling in his papers. Many Hufflepuffs didn’t even pretend to eat breakfast any longer. Even at the Ravenclaw table and the Slytherin table the students were listening. There was a hushed silence everywhere but at the Gryffindor table.

Greggs turned some of his pages. “The next question might be related to that. What do you think about the sorting?”

Elena Prewett, a freckled girl with braids elbowed him. “Don’t skip the important questions!”

Greggs scowled at her. “I’ll come to that. The sorting is more important.”

“So, you want our opinion on the sorting? And on the houses?” Hermione asked.

Greggs nodded.

Draco and Hermione exchanged a glance.

“We’ve talked about this very often. There are so many things that don’t really add up.”

Draco held his index finger up. “One, students are sorted when they are eleven, when they are kids, their characters aren’t set, their talents still hidden. Does the hat determine how their character will be? An ambitious Slytherin, a happy-go-lucky Hufflepuff? A brainy Ravenclaw? Does the hat know how their characters will be? Where is the freedom of will in that?”

“Two, students can negotiate with the hat. The hat takes their wishes into consideration.”

“Three, how comes that the houses are evenly distributed? In every class all four houses are represented, and evenly more or less.”

“Four, it is no secret that house traits are not to be found exclusively in the members of said house. Severus Snape was a Slytherin with courage, Dumbledore was a Gryffindor with a cunning that would have put Salazar to shame.”

Hermione raised her hand, spreading her fingers and continued. “Wizards and witches are a small community, a small society and to survive and prosper they need all the characteristics of all the houses. They need the Slytherin drive to survive, their ambition to improve, the Ravenclaw’s thirst for knowledge, the occasionally stupid risk affinity of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuff love, friendship and loyalty to patch it all together.”

“I think many things influence the sorting: The wishes of the child, what the school needs to be balanced, maybe also what the child needs and not how the child is. An unfocused dreamy girl with much love in her heart might need to get focus in Ravenclaw, a timid little boy might need to learn courage in Gryffindor, an ambitious boy might be put into Hufflepuff to learn about the advantages of friendship. Someone who is already very brave might need to learn how to survive with cunning in Slytherin.”

Draco took over from her. “The child’s actual character that is still malleable at eleven might be the least important contribution to the sorting.”

The students had listened with piqued interest. Neville thought that he could actually see them processing these interesting ideas. The timid little boy was him. He had known for quite some time, that he had not started with Gryffindor courage. The girl with love in her heart was Luna.

“Why were you sorted into Slytherin, Mr Malfoy?”

“I think mostly because I could not have fathomed to be sorted anywhere else.”

“And you Mrs Granger-Malfoy? Why Gryffindor?”

“The hat wanted to put me into Ravenclaw. I think he put me into Gryffindor because he knew I needed courage.”

“Now to another very important question,” Greggs picked up his notes again. “Snape or Dumbledore?”

“In what regard?” Hermione asked, while Draco said “Snape” with conviction.

“Who was the greater wizard?”

“That was Snape.” Hermione winked. “If you had asked who was more manipulative and cunning. I would have answered Dumbledore.”

Greggs was elbowed again by Elena Prewett. At the Slytherin table, Neville saw some galleons change hands.

“O.k. o.k. Another very important question. Mr Malfoy, when did you fall in love with your wife?”

Neville had to snicker at Draco’s face.

“How is that any of your concern?” he demanded.

“It was crucial for your defection from Voldemort, was it not?”

Draco opened his mouth and closed it again, surprised. “You seem to think that my defection is an iron-clad fact.”

“It is not?”

“To me it is, but at my trial I was only given the benefit of the doubt.”

“So, when did you fall in love with your wife?” Elena Prewett would not budge.

“I…” Draco was at a loss of words.

“He had a crush on her since forever.” Pansy chimed in.

Draco’s head snapped to the side, scowling at her.

Pansy grinned. “I was in the same house, Draco. I cannot remember a time where it was not ‘Granger this, Granger that’, ‘did you see her ridiculous mass of hair’ ‘she was trying to touch the ceiling with her raised finger again’ ‘how could she even know the answer to that, in what book did she even read that’…. And this was all way before the Yule Ball in fourth year.”

Neville toppled almost over with laughing when Draco’s cheeks were coloured with a decidedly red hue. This time some Hufflepuffs exchanged galleons. He should probably have prohibited betting before the Granger’s visit, but it was way too much fun to stop the students now.

Pansy shook her head. “Just think about it, Draco. You called Neville and me the king and queen of U.S.T…. What does that mean for you?”

Neville grinned, remembering when he had first been introduced to the meaning of U.S.T.

“Next question. Are you friends with Professor Longbottom?”

Hermione answered first. “I’ve been friends with him since our first ride on the Hogwarts Express. And I would have become friends with his toad Trevor as well if he had made an appearance.”

“Can you be friends with someone who sneaks into your kitchen to snitch dough meant for biscuits?” Draco asked.

“I don’t snitch dough!” Neville bristled at the suggestion, strictly speaking he tasted dough, very occasionally.

“It’s his only vice,” Draco was unfazed by Neville’s protest. “well, that and the occasional lie about the snitching.”

The Hufflepuffs snickered.

“Wow, there goes my credibility. Thanks, Draco.”

“You’re welcome.” Draco smirked.

From the corner of his vision, Neville thought he saw galleons exchanged at the Ravenclaw table, but when he focussed sharply on the offending students, they looked at him with round, innocent eyes.

John Greggs rifled through his notes and was about to find yet another question to ask, when Prudy appeared with a small pop, directly at Draco’s elbow and greeted them.

Draco angled for his bag and produced a jar of what looked like jam and gave it to Prudy.

Prudy studied the hand-written label and made a face. “One of your experiments. Quince. Is it any good?”

“I added some cinnamon and lemon. You can always switch off your taste buds. I’m sure you’ll get it down.”

Prudy shook her head, as if she had just heard the saddest story. “You add lemon to everything. It’s a vice.”

Neville had long come to the conclusion that Prudy was the most unusual house elf, but she was strangest, when she was in bantering mood and traded insults with Draco. He looked at his clock, and decided it was time to usher the children to class.

Lizzie took her father’s hand. “First and second years will be the first to get the demonstration. Am I allowed to shower you with hexes, dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather long chapter, a bit on the fluffy side, but there are also some hints pointing towards the ending of the fic.


	55. Disturbances in the courtroom (March 18, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gives his testimony at Draco's trial

Draco could not help himself. He hoped. Despite having breakfast under the watchful eyes of auror Dawlish, despite several aurors trying to test the _scutum_ and hex him, when he was led out to face what was most probably the last day of his trial, despite the fact that they led him past the board where the aurors had bet on the outcome of the trial, despite Weasel pointing out that the betting odds were highest in the slot where it said ‘five years at least’, despite the hissing, despite the feeling that he was not in general a lucky person, he hoped.

When he was led into the courtroom, it was almost empty. Draco could see his parents, and Dawlish even allowed his mother to come and speak with him. His father remained seated, his eyes studied him as if he was a stranger.

“Your father is worried about the _scutum_ , but once you’re at home, we’ll find a way to remove it.”

Draco did not believe in false pretences nor in false hope. He shook his head.

“You know that Severus came up with this.” He gestured at himself. “And you must have realised, that it was never meant for me. This was Severus’ plan C. He wanted to contain Voldemort with this permanent _scutum_. I sincerely doubt that there is a way to dissolve it.”

He might have imagined it, but it looked like his mother paled. Her smile had a bit of a forced quality to it, but she laid her hand on his, despite Dawlish scowling at her.

“You must know, that this doesn’t matter to me. You are alive and you might even walk away as a free man. That is all that counts.”

He pressed her hand shortly. “I know, mother.”

He had no doubt, that his father did not feel the same. His father’s eyes were still on him. He wondered what irritated his father more, the fact that his heir wasn’t technically a wizard any more, the fact, that at least to him it must have become obvious during the trial, that Draco had lost his faith in ‘the cause’ for quite some time, or that Draco had not trusted him with that information. His father had refused to be called as witness, claiming that he could not help the son who had not confided his doubts in him, Hermione had informed him. Somehow it had become common knowledge, probably because Lucius Malfoy still wanted **his** social circle to know that he had nothing to do with his son’s defection, a defection that was yet to be proved.

Hermione had been unsure if this leaked knowledge might help him. After all, that Draco had not confided in his father and had only made veiled remarks to his mother might prove how deep his fear had run. Draco had no doubt that Hermione would try her best to spin everything in his favour.

His father had not visited him, nor did Draco believe his mother’s frequent alluding to his father sending his regards. Draco wondered if his father would have preferred him to stay hidden or maybe even better dead, if he had had a choice.

Their eyes met across the courtroom when his mother returned to her place and Draco refused to lower his gaze first.

The courtroom did not remain empty. Before long, the room was packed. Draco saw the Weasley clan, journalists from the prophet, the ‘interested’ public. It made him feel slightly nauseous. He just hoped that he would not have a breakdown if he were sent to Azkaban. He did not doubt that dementors would affect him. They affected muggles after all. And there were so many horrible memories. The dementors would have no problem to suck out the happy hours he had shared with Hermione in a matter of minutes.

Pansy came over. Dawlish eyed her suspiciously, but she squared her shoulders and wished Draco luck, telling him that she was convinced of his defection. Draco saw Longbottom look up at her intentionally loud carrying voice. Pansy was not the only nice surprise. Hermione’s parents apparently had been allowed to come, and they also wished him well. Apart from that it was not exactly a string of well-wishers. Draco thought he saw Theo, Daphne, and Blaise from his house. Blaise nonchalantly waved, as if he had spotted Draco across the street and just had not time to come over. At least he did not act as if he did not know Draco.

The people who passed him to curse him were far more. Katie Bell told him she wanted him to rot, and Angelina Johnson ranted about how unfair it was that he had survived, when Fred Weasley had fallen. Others, who had far fewer personal reasons to hate him, were even more vocal and Dawlish had to intervene more than once to keep people from hexing him. Not that any hex would have made an impact, but many people still did not get that.

By the time the trial began, the wizengamot, the judge, the defence and the prosecution had entered, Draco’s nerves lay bare. Hermione did not meet his eyes, and Draco was careful to just let his gaze wander over her, no lingering, even though he very much wanted to. Draco was sure she had put on make-up. Her cheeks looked healthy, but something told him that she was pale underneath and that she had slept as little as he had.

Potter entered the witness stand. Draco wondered if Potter could and would savour this moment. At this exact moment, Draco’s life and his happiness were in his hands. How would this feel? Would Potter relish in the moment that gave him this power? Just for a little while? Could he see the irony of the situation? He could stay the hero, tell the truth, but by doing this help his enemy escape prison. Or he could have his revenge, make sure Draco was put into prison, knowing that he would have lost the moral high ground forever, even if only Draco and Hermione would know about it. Draco could not have said what he himself would have done if the situation had been reversed. It was one thing to help Potter escape and save his life, so that Voldemort could be put down, and quite another to have power over a man you hated. Other than Draco’s good opinion – something Potter did certainly not value – there would be no repercussions if Potter decided on revenge.

Potter took the oath to tell the truth. His hair stuck out in the usual unkempt manner, and Draco thought he looked strained. He was probably the third person who had not slept well this night. He looked straight ahead at a point over the heads of the wizengamot. He let the ridiculous speech of the judge, who thanked the ‘chosen one’ for his service to the wizarding world wash over him. Draco felt a pang of pity. If Potter had to listen to rubbish like that every day, he must be bored to death by now. If he knew him at all, it certainly would not help his mood.

Judge Prewett finally came to the point: “Mr Potter, the prosecution has called you as witness, and the defence has informed me, that she will not cross-examine your evidence, but she wants to explain this.”

Potter nodded and Draco could see that his jaw muscles worked. Hermione stood and went to Potter. At first her voice was low, and Draco thought that he could hear it trembling slightly. But Hermione’s voice gained strength.

“You know that this is about justice and truth, not about revenge or petty grudges. You know that your testimony is the most important in this trial and I don’t have to remind you of the possible consequences. I’ve known you to do the right thing many times in your life, Harry. If you decide to be unfair, then there is nothing I can do. No cross-examining would do the accused any good then.”

Potter looked positively livid. “Do us both a favour, Hermione, and spare me your lectures.”

That was not a very promising beginning. He thought he heard someone snicker. Draco bit his lip so hard, that he drew blood, and clenched his hands to fists.

It took him rather by surprise then, when Potter’s testimony turned out rather more favourable than his curt dismissal of Hermione had let Draco expect. Potter had prepared his statement and read it aloud. He was not a good reader, and Draco suspected that it was only the subject that kept the audience awake. Potter’s voice sounded strangely flat and detached.

Potter confirmed that Draco had told Crabbe not to kill him, that Draco had snatched the diadem, just before they had all made it out of the Room of Hidden things and came to the conclusion that it was impossible to say, what Draco’s intentions had been and whether he had come with Crabbe and Goyle or on his own. He did not mention Draco’s bag with the Phoenix Potion, but in all fairness, Draco knew that he could have overlooked that.

Potter told about the day of Dumbledore’s death and the Astronomy tower. Draco was surprised to learn that Potter had been there. He more or less confirmed what Draco had told when he had been questioned. That he had taken the mark when his mother’s life was threatened. That he had shied from killing Dumbledore. Again, Potter did not comment on Draco’s reasons.

The fateful day at the manor came last. Sloane was not too happy with Potter’s answers so far and questioned him sharply.

“So, did Mr Malfoy recognize you? Mr Weasley seemed to think that the stinging hex had been successful in disguising you.”

“You can say many things about Malfoy,” Potter answered. “But he is not stupid. Of course, he knew it was me. There was Ron, there was Hermione, I mean even people considerably less intelligent than Malfoy would have realized, that the third person was me.”

The judge had to call for order then. Everybody had begun to talk at once.

Draco’s heart beat fast and hard against his rips. This was it, wasn’t it? That was his ticket to freedom. He searched for Hermione’s gaze, but she sat silent, her whole body strained.

“So, you would say, that Mr Malfoy tried to save you?”

Potter shrugged. “There is a wide range between ‘not being exactly thrilled to witness a classmate, even one you detest, be tortured and killed’ and ‘trying to save the person you know could bring down Voldemort’. I would say that anything between these two is feasible. Although I do think, that I understand him in some ways, I am not able to look into Malfoy’s brain and he might not be able to tell himself what was his reasoning behind not identifying me.”

The judge had to call for order again. Draco felt anger rise in his guts. Bloody Potter. He told the truth and yet he had managed to make Draco’s actions look rather suspect. At the same time, he wondered if he would have done the same in Potter’s stead.

Sloane seemed to see an opening. “What do you think Mr Malfoy’s intention was?”

“I honestly can’t say. By now I am quite certain though, that he did try to save Hermione.”

Sloane was taken aback. “You do believe that he cast a _scutum_ on her? For three quarters of an hour?”

“If you want me to answer that I would have to elaborate.”

Draco’s mind reeled. What was Potter’s angle? What did he want to prove?

“Please do, Mr Potter.” Sloane clenched his teeth. He did not seem to have doubts that Potter’s testimony played into Draco’s hands. Draco was not so sure.

Potter turned to Draco. “Hm, Malfoy, what do you think? Should I unbury your little secret? Your dirty little secret?”

The judge called for order again. Draco risked a glance at Hermione. Even under the make-up it was clear that she had paled. Her eyes were wide. Draco felt the sudden urge to run to her. He had difficulty looking away, and when his eyes met Potter’s he saw the corners of his mouth quirk slightly as if Draco just had confirmed something.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Draco answered. His mind was close to being overwhelmed by a vague dread.

“You will talk when you are in the witness stand. Stay silent,” Dawlish reprimanded him.

Draco pressed his lips together.

Judge Prewett look up. “Oh, by no means, let him talk, Dawlish. This might get very interesting. Carry on, Mr Potter.”

“Well, it is no secret, that Malfoy and I never got along, that we hate each other. There is something like the clear sight of hate, though. Malfoy always knew which buttons he had to push to rile me up and I think I know him equally well.”

Potter turned to Draco again, and smiled. It was a cold smile. Draco concentrated on pressing his teeth together. Pointing out that **anybody** could see Potter’s buttons that were of a glaring red colour would not help him now.

Potter opened the briefcase he had brought and took out a notebook. Draco recognised it. It was his notebook. His notebook, with his drawings, made as an anchor for his memories.

“Maybe the esteemed wizengamot remembers that the muggle Dr Williams told us that Malfoy remembered the Yule Ball, but did not remember the colour of his crush’s dress. Why would he not remember that detail? Unless it was a memory he stored away. But why would he need to store that away? It was nothing but a dance.”

Draco desperately tried to avoid looking at Hermione. What was Potter’s intention? What did the Yule Ball have to do with anything?

“Well, let’s remember why he stored his memories away? He thought his occlumency was not good enough to block Voldemort.”

“The conclusion is that the information of who his crush is, had to be hidden from Voldemort. Why would that be the case, hmm, Malfoy?”

Draco stared at Potter, desperately trying to control his emotions. He did not want his love for Hermione discussed in the whole courtroom. Not so much for himself, as he had little to lose, but for Hermione. He pressed his hands on his knees. He shook his head slightly, in a vain effort, to plead for silence, but Potter kept going.

He held up the notebook. “These are the drawings Malfoy made to regain his memories. Dr Williams has told us, that he drew his crush.”

Potter leafed through the notebook. “Let’s have a look, shall we? Hmm. Hermione Granger, looks like it’s fifth year, with her prefect badge. Hermione Granger, lifting her finger in class, fourth year, I’d say. Hermione Granger, bent over a cauldron in potions, sixth year perhaps? There are even older ones, Hermione Granger on the bench of the quidditch arena, looks like first year, I’d say.”

“Over the half of these drawings are of Hermione. The drawings are scattered all over our school years, they show events well back into first year, well back to our first ride on the Hogwarts train when Hermione helped Neville Longbottom search his toad. And while everyone else in his notebook does get rather unflattering subscriptions, it is just ‘Hermione’ under every picture he drew of her.”

Potter gave the notebook to Sloane who leafed through it, eyebrows raised, and passed it on to the wizengamot. While Potter’s voice had been flat and detached when he gave his statement there could be no doubt that he was deeply involved now.

The silence in the courtroom was heavy. Draco pressed his lips together, balling his hands to fist. He barely registered that Dawlish stood alert. Did Potter not realise what he did? Draco locked his eyes to Potter’s, still not looking at Hermione and got the sinking feeling, that Potter knew exactly what he did.

“Some of you might be surprised. Malfoy was never nice to Hermione after all. He insulted her, bullied her, ridiculed her, called her a mudblood. Once you understand it, it is easy, though. He was always so full of his own importance, the Malfoy heir, pureblood, rich, gifted wizard. It must have been infuriating to see this muggleborn witch who beat him in every class but potions, intelligent, and who was so thoroughly and utterly unimpressed by him.”

Potter turned to him. “To be ignored, that would not do, Malfoy, would it? That was unbearable. So, you made sure, that she noticed you, didn’t you? Did you even know why you did it? When did you realise? At the Yule Ball? You must have realised at some point or you would not have stored memories of Hermione away. Your obsession with the witch you called a dirty mudblood.”

Draco did not answer, but he didn’t need to. The courtroom was so silent, that he was sure, that everyone would notice his heavy breathing. Potter’s little speech hit so close, that Draco was tempted to look at his breast to check if Potter had somehow cast a _sectumsempra_ on him again, if there was blood all over him.

It hit him then. Sympathizers of Voldemort would hate him for betraying their ideas in such a blatant manner, and the order and Hermione’s friends just were reminded how he had been. They probably would be angry about him daring to raise his eyes to their precious Hermione. Draco risked a look at the Weasley family. The Weasel’s face was an alarming shade of red.

Potter turned to Sloane again. “This is why I am certain, that Malfoy tried to save Hermione. And yes, I do think he cast the _scutum_ on her. For how long is impossible to say. I do think, he might have managed to cast it longer than five minutes. He probably was desperate, and he was at that moment, the master of the Elder Wand, a wand that enables the wizard to do deeds unheard of.”

Potter did not need to confirm, that Draco had done nothing to actively save Potter. Everybody knew that that had been Dobby.

“Did you even tell her, you love her? Or rather that you are obsessed with her?”

Not to answer was not really an option. He could not deny Hermione, he would not deny her, even if Potter had somehow managed to twist his love to look as if it were something ugly.

“Yes, I told her,” he admitted. “I love her with all my heart.”

His voice rang in his ears. He did not look at Potter again. His eyes were searching for Hermione. She looked distraught, her hands raised as if she wanted to plead for something, for what Draco could not tell, nor if she wanted to plead with him or with Potter.

Draco looked at Potter again who studied him with disdain.

“You’re still such an entitled brat, aren’t you? You told her. I don’t even know, how, but you manipulated her into helping you. You probably told her, she owes you for saving her. Yes, you made an effort to save her, but it was Dobby who brought her away. Dobby who died for that, killed by your aunt.”

Potter drew a deep breath and continued. “If you would love her, truly love her, you would not think about yourself, nor would you utilize her and her good heart to keep you out of prison. You would not ruin everything for her, her first case, her career, her engagement, all in shambles, because you just cannot bear not to be noticed, not to get her attention.”

“What’s this supposed to prove?” Draco shouted. “That I did it all for the wrong reasons? That it is somehow not enough that I didn’t do it for everybody’s sake?”

“She doesn’t owe you shit, ferret,” Potter shouted back. “and I wish I knew what you did to make her think she does.”

“But you owe her, Potter, you owe her.” Draco was done with Potter. “She saved your sorry arse more than once, and if you had not been so bloody stupid to speak Voldemort’s name you wouldn’t even have been caught that day. Fine friends you are, you and the Weasel. You endangered her, going to Godric’s Hollow directly into Nagini’s lair, speaking you-know-who’s name, making her wear the face of my deranged aunt for your visit to Gringotts, and the Weasel even abandoned you both. Hermione does not need you to make her decisions for her.”

Draco hadn’t even realised that he had stood up and taken a step towards Potter. Potter also had come closer to him. Dawlish blocked him and pointedly gestured at his hands, that were balled into fists.

“That is quite enough,” Judge Prewett said. He obviously hadn’t expected to be that entertained.

Draco blinked and came to himself. Hermione shook her head, vehemently, and he sat down again. He had just reminded everyone that he hated Potter, Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world. He closed his eyes. Not a very smart move. Not very Slytherin.

“Could you sum up your statement, Mr Potter” Sloane asked. He looked very smug.

“Malfoy did not want to kill Dumbledore, he might have wanted to help in the Room of Hidden Things. He definitely failed to identify me on purpose that day at the manor, probably to buy time, not necessarily for me, but for Hermione. If this counts as defection is something the wizengamot has to decide.”

“He’s a selfish git, who has an unhealthy obsession with my friend, but that is not a punishable offence. No matter how he walks out of this court, if he goes to Azkaban or he walks out as a free man, if I see him never again, it will be too soon.”

Potter sat down. “Was that enough truth for you, Hermione?” he asked.

Draco felt the air leave his lungs and fought to keep upright. He would not give Potter the satisfaction of seeing how much this affected him. Potter had managed what should have been impossible. He had confirmed that Draco had worked against Voldemort but in such a way, that it would not endear Draco to any of the factions in the wizengamot. It would be Azkaban for him. He would just look at Hermione for the rest of the trial, trying to burn her into his memory. There was no point in denying himself that little comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update a bit early just for Marydri....


	56. Family trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger-Malfoys are looking for possible Malfoy heirs... It doesn't look that good.

“There was hardly any work left. You did so well” Colin could hear that his mum was impressed, and it made him proud.

The headmaster’s office was a real mess, books were everywhere, some closed, some opened, but in the middle was a huge family tree, Rina, Colin and Lizzie had prepared. They had glued several leaves together and it was about the only thing that looked tidy. The reason it looked tidy was rather frustrating though. They had gone back to the time of the conquest, when the Malfoys had come over from France with the wizarding counsellor of William the Conqueror and there were only five possibilities.

“To be quite honest, our grandmother had already covered everything up to the 1750s.”, Lizzie said.

“Do you know, when this whole pureblood rubbish started?” Colin asked. “Judging from the family trees and how the sacred 28 intermarried so often, I would say, that it goes well back into the 15th century. Before that there are different names, at least occasionally.”

Mum shook her head. “I have no idea, Colin. I’ve always concentrated more on dismantling pureblood ideas than studying them. Your dad might know, but then listening to purebloods you would think they practiced their traditions since Adam and Eve.”

“It’s almost lunchtime. We could make a break and discuss the possibilities with dad,” Colin suggested. He wanted to squeeze in a question of his own that had nothing to do with the Malfoy family.

“Do you want to go to the Great Hall for lunch?” Mum asked. She looked around and decided not to disturb the books, they had leafed through in the last hours, but sat on the ground. “If you’d rather not, we can always sneak down to the kitchen and ask Prudy if she’ll get us something.

“We can’t do that, mum,” Lizzie said. “My housemates will have my head, if all these questions remain unanswered.”

“There are more questions? You want us to sit with the Hufflepuffs again? Your father is going to have a fit about all these private questions.”

“If he does, I am bound to win a lot of money.” Lizzie smiled smugly.

“You bet on dad going off on some of the questions?” Colin could hardly believe his little sister.

Lizzie giggled. “I had to swear that I would not interfere though. Did you not bet at all?”

Colin flushed. “Just about what mum and dad would answer to the ‘Dumbledore or Snape’ question, and I obviously won that one. I didn’t bet any money, though, but I will brag about being right about mum’s answer. I can’t believe you bet money!”

Lizzie stuck out her tongue.

“I had no idea that the students would be that curious about us.”

Lizzie and Colin looked at each other and shook their heads. Sometimes mum could be strangely oblivious to her own fame.

Seeing that his mum had settled down comfortably, Colin fetched the book on elves from his bag, the book that he hardly ever left behind, because the riddle had hooked him well and fast.

He showed the book to his mum. “Mr Fillingham told me, that you were the last person to borrow ‘Customs and Conventions of the Common house elves’ from the library. Have you any idea, which language this is? I have tried to find out, but I’ve had no luck so far.”

He showed her the strange spidery script, and the gibberish. Mum frowned, took the book, and looked at the cover.

“I remember reading that book in third year, when I was on my S.P.E.W. spree. If I remember correctly it was nothing but rubbish, how elves love to be slaves and all that.” She snorted.

She opened the book again. “The cover looks the same, but this is not the book, that I read, I am sure. What does Prudy say?”

“Prudy just had a look at the cover, and vanished.”

“If you had some secret information on elves, it would be a good idea to hide it in a doublet in a library.” She tapped her lips in thought. “The writing looks so strange. Maybe it is not another language. Maybe someone disguised their writing and wrote code.”

She handed the book back to him. “You could try to unlock possible spells on the books. And maybe ask Mr Fillingham if you can take the book with you. We can search in the British library for a language that might fit, and you can ask Luna the next time you see her. Luna and Blaise know many languages.”

“That is a good idea.” Colin was excited. He would not ask Mr Fillingham though. He would just take the book. Better ask for forgiveness later. Mr Fillingham was very possessive about ‘his’ books and Colin doubted that he would allow him to take it out of Hogwarts.

Colin had just put away the book, when Professor Greengrass, Rina, uncle Neville and aunt Pansy entered the headmaster’s office.

Rina had a spring in her step. “That must have been the best DADA lesson, I’ve ever had. Not to smarm up to anyone present, but there were so many more students who managed to cast the _scutum_ than in Dawlish’ lessons.”

Rina went to mum and in an unusual show of affection gave her a hug.

She raised her hand. “Five”, she said, bursting with pride. “And five points to Slytherin. We still might make it this year, Colin.”

Mum smiled and gave Rina a thumbs up and Colin shrugged. Gryffindor had a rather comfortable lead this year, but he didn’t care as much as Rina anyway.

Dad scrutinized the family tree.

“I’m not sure, if I should be impressed by all the work you have got done or gutted by the fact that this does look far too tidy to be promising.”

He gave mum a quick peck on the cheek. “Care to give me the intermediate results?”

“Where is Professor Flitwick?”, professor Greengrass asked.

“Fled,” mum answered. “Leaving us with the portraits who have long started snoring or who have fled as well. Genealogy is really a very boring subject.”

She walked around the spread papers. “So, no younger brothers to the heir up to the 1750s, and before that up to the Conquest the cadet lines always died out after a generation or two, apart from the one time, where the older heir died in a quidditch match without issue, and the younger brother continued the line”

Dad scoffed. “Makes you wonder about brotherly love, inheritance squabbles gone awry and the pruning of the family tree".”

Mom did not comment on that. Colin wondered why dad **always** suspected the worst.

“That leaves the women, not too many of them either, there is Euphemia Malfoy who married a Theodore Nott in 1788. There is Xanthippe Malfoy who married a Perseus Black in 1681, Lysistrata Malfoy and Frederic Greengrass in 1562, Lucille Malfoy and Earnest Abbot in 1438, Ludmille, not be mixed up with her twin Lucille who married Stan Sloane twenty years later in 1458, and…. “ she made a dramatic pause, “there is an Adelaide Malfoy who married an Aethelwulf nicknamed ‘the Weasel’ in 1071.”

Uncle Neville laughed. “Weasleys on the side of the Anglo-Saxons, and Malfoys on the side of the Normans. Did you know it went that far back, Draco? I bet that marriage was a disaster.”

“You’ll hear no objection to that theory from me,” dad answered.

Mum chided them. “You don’t know that. Adelaide might have been a French ethereal beauty who tamed the Anglo-Saxon, who was uncouth but honest. Even you might like that story, Malfoy.”

“Hermione,” dad said.

“Yes, honey?”. She smiled innocently. “We still have to double-check these, of course. Nott is the best option. Not only is Theodore quite often the name of the heir, but it’s also the closest in time.”

“And Theo desperately needs the money on top of Nott villa and his meagre earning from the books he writes.” Dad commented wrily.

“We have to check if Perseus Black was the Black heir, but the Black heir today is obviously Harry.”

“Potter is also in desperate need of money I hear,” Dad joked. Colin was not sure, if he really thought it was that funny.

“But Potter is not the biological heir,” Rina put in.

“I doubt the magic would accept him,” Aunt Pansy argued. “Harry is at the Manor occasionally, and he never said anything about a magical connection. He would feel that, wouldn’t he?”

“Potter visits the Manor occasionally? Occasionally?” Dad’s voice sounded quite irritated.

“I do as well, Draco, ever since January, since I learned about the curse, as does Luna. A curse you never mentioned, I might add. So, your mother is well-informed about you and your family. As well as we all are able to.” Aunt Pansy shook her head at dad.

“We wrote her on behalf of the Hogwarts students to thank her for the donation to the library.” Rina put in. When she saw dad’s eyes widening, she added. “without giving names obviously.”

“Will you stop talking so openly about this,” Professor Greengrass interrupted, her voice raised.

She took a breath. “I mean we’re at Hogwarts, in the headmaster’s office, still, just be careful. One could think you’re bloody Gryffindors.”

“Some of us are, Astoria.” Uncle Neville sounded amused. “Luna could ask Hannah on Earnest Abbot and his issue,” he suggested.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself. I thought you were on speaking terms.” Dad wanted to know.

“Yes, but nobody ever denies Luna.” That was true enough.

“No chance at approaching the Sloanes,” mum said. “Even Luna couldn’t do that. But we tackle that, after we have checked the other options.”

“Could you ask the Weaselette to look into Perseus and possible issue as well as the uncouth Anglo-Saxon?” Dad had turned to mum.

Mum licked her lips. “That sort of stretches our usual arrangement, but she owes me for Luna’s party. I’ll write her.”

“I can cover the Greengrass marriage,” the charms professor said. “I’ll ask my sister. I wanted to ask a favour anyway and you might kill two birds with one stone that way.”

The Professor fidgeted in such a manner, like Colin had never seen her do before.

“Daphne wants to meet Ellie, and she invited us for tea, the day after Easter, when Ellie has a bank holiday and we don’t have school. And I wondered if you would want to come as well, that is you and the children, so that Ellie doesn’t feel overwhelmed by all these strange wizarding people.”

“So, Ellie would get some kind of semi-muggle backing and we can have a look at the Nott and Greengrass connections? Tit for tat? But would they want us? I haven’t seen Theo since Pansy’s and Neville’s wedding.” Dad frowned.

“Only if Nott swears on his honour that he has disenabled all Muggle, Muggleborn and Half-Blood traps in the house.”

“He’s done that ages ago.” Professor Greengrass shrugged. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dad and mum exchanged this look they had when they seemed to discuss something just by glances.

“We’ll come and give you a car-ride. That way Ellie won’t have to side-along or floo or something that might stress her.”

“Is there a library at Nott villa?” Colin wanted to know.

Dad laughed. “Always asking the important questions.”

“That is not true,” Lizzie complained loudly. “The more important question is, when we will finally go and have lunch.”

“You go on,” Dad said. “I’ll stay and try to chat with Severus Snape and join you later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another present time chapter.... Genealogy is a tough subject, so I sought to make it entertaining....


	57. DADA lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The third years get a lesson, Colin included.

Lizzie won her bet about dad being annoyed about the series of questions, which did not surprise Colin at all. His loved his parents, but he had known for quite some time, that patience was not among their virtues. At least dad had not gone off. He had just switched into a sarcastic mood, when he was asked if living as a muggle was ‘unbearable’ which obviously was still enough for Lizzie to win her bet.

Mum asked dad about his chat with Snape’s portrait, and dad snapped out of his sarcasm.

“Severus was really rather sloppy with this. I mean I understand, it was all done in great haste…. I don’t remember our talks because I stored them away and he doesn’t remember them because he just put his knowledge on Potter, horcruxes and apparently Lily Evans into the portrait.”

He laughed. “It made conversation about mutual memories awkward, to say the least. But it also made him ask about you, and our marriage.”

“I think, he might be jealous,” dad whispered. “He ranted about your general swottiness, that he’s heard what a nuisance our children are, if we did try to get a Quidditch team of our own, and then he asked if we are happy.”

“What did you answer?”, mum asked. “That you can tolerate our life?”

He gave mum a peck on the cheeks. “How well you know me.”

***

The third years were the last students to get a demonstration of the _scutum_. They would not cast the spell itself, which was far too advanced for third years, but would learn the theory.

Aunt Pansy, Uncle Neville and Professor Greengrass took turns to show the students how a _scutum_ felt and Colin could see in their faces how exhausting it was, even though they only ever held the _scutum_ for a few seconds, as long as it took the students to try casting a charm. His godmother also showed them that a _scutum_ could be tied off when it was applied to inanimate objects. The wand wave was complicated, but Professor Greengrass assured them, that they would repeat this every year.

Several students were allowed trying to spell the objects that had been put under the _scutum_. But of course, nobody succeeded. Colin shook his head at his classmates. It said so on page 95 of their DADA book after all. Although it would be quite an achievement if someone were to find a way to go past a _scutum_.

Then the students could test to fire hexes and jinxes to their heart’s content. Dad was thoroughly amused by that part of the lesson. He taunted the students to have a go at ‘hexing a villain’. Colin held back, hoping that time would be up before it was his turn. When he was the only one left, he refused though.

“I’m not going to hex you, dad,” he told his father.

“Lizzie and Rina did.”

“That’s because Rina would never miss an opportunity to test some elaborate hexes with an official permit and Lizzie had a bet with her housemates on which class would get the most hexes thrown at you.”

“Well, that explains some things. Wouldn’t that mean that your class is at a disadvantage, if you don’t hex me?”

“It’s an inner Hufflepuff bet, dad, and it wouldn’t work for any of the others. The classes do the counts themselves, and every other house would just cheat about the numbers, even Gryffindors.”

Colin looked at the Hufflepuffs with suspicion. “I’m not sure about the Hufflepuffs either.”

He only got snickering as an answer.

“I am really appalled at the lack of proper education here at Hogwarts, Neville. You should teach your students that the most important thing about bets is to set the conditions to prevent cheating.”

“You mean, to set the conditions in such a way, that they seem to prevent cheating. And then let the Slytherins come up with a way of how to cheat anyway.” Uncle Neville’s face was straight, but Colin could see the twinkle in his eye.

“That is the general idea.”

Then came the part of the lesson, Colin had hoped would be cancelled. Questions. Uncle Neville was a big fan of questions and Professor Greengrass always had a way about guiding the students to the answers. It made their combined lessons a huge success, but Colin wished, that this part would be omitted today.

Rachel, bless her, was the first to raise her finger.

“Unc… I mean, Mr Malfoy, is it true that you found the wand movement to tie off the _scutum_?”

“Yes, I did. I wanted to protect my memory store from being used by others.”

“Mr Malfoy, did you ever try to brew Phoenix Potion again?”

“No, I’m banned from potion brewing. And since I remember only bits and pieces, I might not manage without my notes.”

“Mr Malfoy, was it exciting to work as a double agent?”

“No, not at all. I lived in constant fear.”

“Mr Malfoy, do you have any idea how Severus Snape perpetuated the spell he put on you?”

“Mr Malfoy, do you feel anything, when a spell hits the _scutum_?”

“Do you still feel your magic?”

“Do you miss magic?”

On and on it went, and Colin was surprised, that dad did answer with a semblance of patience, even though some of the questions were so stupid that Colin could not stop himself from shaking his head. He would never get it. Why didn’t his classmates ever read a book in advance? It would save so much time. Colin knew all the answers, and not because he was living with his dad and had personal experience with his _scutum_.

“Mr Malfoy, are you aware that Severus Snape meant this spell for Voldemort and do you think it would be an appropriate punishment instead of a sentence to prison?” Colin’s head jerked up at that question. That had been Richard Weasley. He scowled at the back of his classmate’s ginger head.

Dad’s face gave nothing away though. “I know that Severus Snape developed this to contain Voldemort, Mr Weasley, and believe me, I am well aware of the irony. No one has ever been able to reproduce this permanent _scutum_ , so your question is simply theoretical. Even in theory I do not think it would be appropriate though. It does not allow for the possibility of ‘error of justice’, as my wife could explain to you in length. And thankfully, criminals nowadays tend to be much less dangerous than Voldemort.”

“So, you do allow for possible ‘errors of justice’. Was your own trial an ‘error of justice’?”, James Potter asked.

“I was acquitted because of ‘in dubio pro reo’. I don’t see how this would be an error of justice.”

“You were acquitted because your wife blackmailed my father into giving testimony on your behalf.”

The class fell silent. For the fracture of a second Colin could see that dad was taken aback by this claim. It really surprised Colin that dad did not seem aware of this rumour. Colin had heard it often enough. Until now, he had always filed it under the ‘amortentia’ header close to the one that read ‘mum and dad stay only together because of the house elves’. He wondered, if there might be a kernel of truth to it, after all.

“Well, for once I am not quite sure, if ‘testimony on my behalf’ describes accurately what your father did. Furthermore, I was not privy to any of the talks your father and my wife had during my trial. So, I wouldn’t know.”

James Potter’s face was set in a scowl. “Are you telling me, that my father invented that?”

“No, I am telling you, that I cannot possible give reliable testimony to back up or refute your claim.”

James Potter’s face became flushed and he looked embarrassed like Colin had never seen him before.

“James,” Uncle Neville’s voice held a soft warning.

He did not heed it. “Well, my father was there, and this is what he told us.”

“You know, Mr Potter, I could well believe that, if it were not for the fact that it would have meant my wife’s licence.” Dad’s smile did not exactly reach his eyes. “To me, this seems to be a clear case of ‘si no e vero e ben trovato’ as the Italians say which loosely translates as ‘might as well be true, even though it can’t be proven’. Because my wife is that bitch.”

The students stared at him, surprised about the rude word. Colin was alarmed.

“It’s spelled bee – dot – itch,” dad said. “It’s an abbreviation by contraction and it stands for brightest witch.”

The tension dissolved into short tittering laughter that Colin joined gladly.


	58. Final speech of the defence (March 18, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione pleas for Draco's freedom

_“Was that enough truth for you, Hermione?”_ Harry’s words rang in her ears and her blood rushed loudly through her ears, drowning out every sound. Her uneasiness, her regret burned in her middle, and she felt as if she had swallowed a thistle that was now sitting directly beneath her heart, poking at her with tiny hot pricks. Harry had told the truth and then some more.

Sloane, the prosecutor, made his case now. Hermione did not listen. She knew what his angle was, and it was unimaginative and traditional, but it was a tale, many would believe, she had to give him that. She looked at her notes that refuted each and every one of Sloane’s argument, but she doubted that would be enough now. She would have to find another angle. She stared at her notes, desperately rummaging in her brain for something she could use.

But it was like the day they had been brought to the manor. She looked at the audience and noticed many details and analysed them, but the main problem of how to swing the balance in Draco’s favour eluded her. She saw Draco’s father scowling at her, Draco’s mother was deathly pale. Her own parents whispered to each other, maybe trying to sort out how they could reconcile ‘the nice young gentleman’ with the obsessive entitled prat Harry had pictured. Ron’s face was redder than his hair, and if Hermione was right, his brothers physically restrained him from jumping up. No doubt, he was itching to pummel Draco. Ginny’s eyes were round and full of surprise, while Luna was showing Neville something she had written down. She probably would try to adjust her theories to the new revelation.

Hermione could feel Draco’s gaze on her. He did not listen to Sloane either, as if his speech were of no consequence. His eyes were glued to her face, as if he wanted to burn her image into his memory to last forever. And Harry, Harry sat there with his arms folded, his mien grimly set, as if he expected her to back down. His face seemed to tell her, that he had not enjoyed any of it, but that it had been necessary. He looked as grim as the day he had broken up with Ginny so that he could go on the Horcrux hunt. Only this time, it was her who would suffer, but Harry did not know that, or at least not to what extent. She wondered what she could have done differently.

She saw all these details, and her thoughts circled around possible explanations for all of them, but when she tried to focus on a way out, her mind drew blanks. The letters in her notes blurred before her eyes, and she was sure, that the argument she had crafted so carefully would crumble. Her first case, a case of the utmost importance for her and her representation for the defence was rubbish, turned obsolete. All too soon, the prosecution had finished, coming to the conclusion that the defence had tried to paint a criminal as a repentant defector, and the judge called upon her to argue against it.

Hermione stood and for what felt like a sliver of infinity, the ground seemed to give way under her, and her nerves threatened to pull her under. All eyes were on her and she vividly remembered how helpless she had felt when Bellatrix Lestrange had raised her wand to torture her. For seconds, she thought she would drop down on the floor and begin to talk gibberish. She picked up her notes with shaking hands.

She was only half-way through her first paragraph, when she realised that it did not matter what the audience would think, that it did not matter if she looked ridiculous. It mattered whether she did her best. And just like that, her nerves calmed, and she felt as if she had been hit by an ice bucket. An ice bucket of righteous anger. The ground was not shaking any longer.

She shook herself and carefully placed the notes on her table, abandoning them. She took a deep breath.

She looked Harry straight in the eye. “Apparently, my case and my career are in shambles, just because I decided to do the defence. If you think that this means anything to me at all, that my career is more important to me than justice, you do not know me at all. I fought in this war, so that people would not be judged without a fair trial. I fought to bring down a tyrant who arbitrarily killed people who had displeased him for this reason or that, for the wrong blood status, for not fulfilling his orders. Voldemort randomly threatened people with death because he liked to bask in their fear, it made him feel powerful, he pressured people to do his bidding. Tyrants do not do justice, even if they try to give themselves a semblance of being just or merciful or strict, whatever serves their purpose.”

Her words seemed to flow on their own.

“If we do not manage to make justice our utmost goal, then it was all for nought. What is my career when justice is at stake? And I want you to ask yourself, what is justice in this case? I have argued that Draco Malfoy defected. That he distanced himself from this ‘homicidal maniac’ – his words not mine – as much as he could, that he entered an understanding with Severus Snape and worked against Voldemort. The prosecution has argued that Draco Malfoy, the repentant death eater, is an act. The circumstantial evidence the defence produced that backs the accused’s claims was ridiculed by the prosecution, most blatantly in the case of Prudy the house elf, whose testimony was declared invalid simply because of her status as a magical being. As if she is somehow less than wizards or witches. The prosecution has argued that Draco Malfoy somehow orchestrated circumstances in such a way, that his guilt could not be proven. I think it interesting, that the prosecution seems to think that Draco Malfoy was a death eater convinced that Voldemort would win and yet made an effort to build up a case for the possibility of him being tried. I assure you, if Draco Malfoy had wanted to plant evidence for his innocence, he would have managed to make it convincing. It is far more reasonable to suppose that he did what double agents should do – which is to not tell anybody, just like he had learned from Severus Snape. Scattering evidence for a possible future trial was the last thing on his mind.”

Sloane sneered at her and his face told her, that he thought her arguments to be feeble.

“Draco Malfoy had doubts even before he refrained from fulfilling the task he had been given by Voldemort. He did not want to kill. And that is why he shrank back from killing Dumbledore. I want you to realize that he abhorred killing so much, that he refused to do it, even though it might have meant his own life and his mother’s. Severus Snape killed Dumbledore. As we now know this was planned. Dumbledore wanted Snape to be the master of the Elderwand, but in a strange twist of fate, Draco Malfoy became the master of the most potent wand of all.”

“And Severus Snape knew. I think this is, why he took the risk to recruit Draco as an ally. Because the Elderwand enhances the wizard’s abilities and Mr Malfoy always had a knack for potions, as Professor Slughorn would have known, if had taken the trouble to check the grades of the students he took over from Professor Snape. The prosecution has argued that it would not have been possible to develop a new potion in mere months, that it would not have been possible to cast a _scutum_ for more than five minutes. But as Master of the Elderwand? Even the loss of his wand was as it should have been. The Elderwand was a tricky artefact and its masters lost the wand when they were weakened. As did Draco Malfoy when he was weakened up to the point of almost losing his magic after saving me.”

She was almost grateful to Harry for bringing up the Elderwand. She had only just realised how she could further use this in Draco’s favour, as an argument that he had brewed Phoenix Potion.

“Let me remind you of the evidence that supports that this is the truth. The testimony of Dr Williams shows that Draco Malfoy hated Voldemort and his arbitrary killings, the testimony of Helena Winters showed that he had successfully brewed Phoenix Potion and used it, the testimony of Narcissa Malfoy showed that it is at least feasible, that Draco Malfoy called Severus Snape as backup with his ring, the moment he realised Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and I had been brought in by snatchers. He clearly recognised us all and yet did his best to buy time. Harry Potter is convinced that Draco Malfoy recognized him. This is all topped by the testimony of the house elf Prudy. Her contract with Hogwarts clearly shows that she is a free elf whose testimony should be worth as much as a witch’s. Who knows, how many lives Draco Malfoy saved at the Battle of Hogwarts?”

Hermione looked at the faces of the wizengamot and wondered if her words had made an impact. Surely, many had suspected that this would be her argument in her final speech. She drew a deep breath. Time to take the plunge into deep waters. She was not a Gryffindor for nothing. If she made the scales swing, they might come to a stop in Draco’s favour after all.

“When Judge Prewett asked me, if I would take the Malfoy case, I asked him, if I would not be considered biased. And he told me that he had no doubts about my professionalism, that my first case would probably be an easy win. At that time, I thought this to be overly optimistic, but I did not realise that I had been offered the prosecution. I had registered for defence, and I was naïve enough not to realise, that the sentence in the Malfoy case was considered to be a foregone conclusion, that I was offered the prosecution to boost my career, that the bias I should have had as a muggleborn and as someone from the other side of the war was thought to be inconsequential. It was assumed that it would not hurt to have a prosecution with a bias directed against the accused.”

“Since I stand here, you can see, that I took the defence, thinking that this was what I was meant to do. Thinking that I had luck to do what I had wanted to do since the moment I learned that he was not dead. Plead for Draco Malfoy’s freedom.”

Her eyes sought Draco’s face and she smiled at him. He was frantically shaking his head. Her smart boyfriend, no husband, knew what she was doing, even if the audience was oblivious.

“You know, I was not the only one to make a mistake. I thought, I was offered the defence, the judge was completely mistaken about the nature of my bias.”

Draco stood up and was snapped at by Dawlish who pressed him into his chair again.

“Hermione, don’t”, he pleaded. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

“My decision,” she told him.

“We agreed on this.” He argued.

“Circumstance have changed.” Hermione answered him. He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I will now tell you about my bias, my real bias. Harry Potter has told you about what he calls Draco’s obsession with me, how he treated me in school when other people were around. What he does not know, is the other side. He does not know what Draco spoke when we were alone, that his insults had become a façade he put on to hide a secret. I do not just assume that Draco Malfoy had doubts before Dumbledore was killed, I know it. Because he told me all about it in our sixth year as much as he dared to confess, his taking the mark because of his mother, his conviction that he would die because Voldemort did not really mean for him to complete his task.”

She ignored Harry’s shouts of “He told you, what do you mean, he told you?”

“I told Dumbledore about this and he assured me that all would go as planned. And apart from the minor detail that it was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore, it went as both Voldemort and Dumbledore had planned. Severus Snape killed Dumbledore, with Voldemort none the wiser about Snape’s true allegiance and thinking he had bested Dumbledore.”

She stopped herself. She would have liked to shout, to rant, that both sides had used teenagers in their war. That Dumbledore could have helped Draco, if he had not been hell bent on his plan. That would not help her case though. It was bad enough, that she went against Harry.

She turned to Harry now. “You only had it half right, Harry. You wondered how Draco made me defend him. The answer to that is, that he did nothing. He did nothing but turn up alive. I wanted to defend him, because I knew better than anyone else that he did not want Voldemort to win. I know that, because he told me between stolen kisses.”

Again, she ignored the buzz, Ron shouting in the background, Harry sputtering in surprise.

“This is the truth, the whole truth.” Hermione opened her bag and pulled out her marriage certificate.

She straightened her back, looking into the eyes of the judge and the wizengamot. “I am biased, because I am not only completely and utterly convinced that Draco has told nothing but the truth, but I am also biased because as of last Thursday I am his wife, and if you sentence him to Azkaban you should at least know that you not only condemn an innocent man but that you also punish Hermione Granger-Malfoy, you know, one of the few persons who destroyed one of Voldemort’s horcruxes.”

She placed the certificate on the judge’s desk with a loud bang that echoed in the hall.

All hell broke loose after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More courtroom drama.... The good thing about wizarding society is, that I can come up with conditions and rules for trials that would not work in the real world....  
> And I might have mentioned it before. I absolutely love courtroom drama. 
> 
> In these crazy times, I hope to give my readers some distractions and entertainment....
> 
> Many thanks to my ardent readers who comment and make my day!


	59. Shadows from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco confronts Hermione about the rumour he heard from James Potter and it turns out that there is something Hermione never told him.

Hermione did not at first realise that something was amiss. They said goodbye to their children and Neville and climbed the Thestrals to fly back to London. The flying made Hermione fidgety and she was so preoccupied with handling her own nerves that she did not note Draco’s silence as unusual.

When they had reached their home, Hermione told her parents who had looked after Meg and Robert about their day. For half an hour Monica and Wendell shared what they had done. Robert had apparently gotten into mischief like he always did. He was already in bed, looking like the angel, he most certainly was not. Meg was reading and was put out that her parents had returned because that meant she had to stop.

It was all the usual routine and it was only after Hermione had closed the door behind her parents, that it struck her that Draco had been quiet the whole time.

“Thinking about your ancestors and their stupid one heir policy, Malfoy?” she asked him.

He just shook his head.

“Are you put out that a Weasley might be the heir of the Malfoy fortune?”

He scoffed. She studied him. He was putting away some clothes, that Monica had folded, and did not look at her.

“What is it, love?”

He rummaged in their wardrobe and did not answer at first.

He closed the wardrobe with a thud and turned to her, suddenly, his eyes searching her face.

“I heard a strange story today. James Potter claimed that my wife blackmailed his father into making a testimony on my behalf at my trial. Would you care to explain, why I did not know this, Hermione?”

His voice was not very loud, but it sounded pressed and unnatural, not like Draco at all.

“You know, I was about to protest and deny it, but in a way, it makes far too much sense.”

Hermione let herself fall on their bed. She closed her eyes. Her heart beat erratically when she remembered. When she opened her eyes again, her husband’s eyes were glued to her face.

“A part of me would very much like it to be nothing but an unjust slander like so many things that are said about us, but it’s the truth, isn’t it?”

She just nodded.

“Why, Hermione, why?”

“You know why!”. She could hear her agitation in her own raised voice. Even after all these years, the memory hurt. It hurt. “I did not want you to go to Azkaban. I did not see a way. Harry had refused to see reason. After Ron had given his testimony, I had talked with Harry every day. Every fucking day. And he would not listen. He just wouldn’t listen. He, and Ron, and almost all of them, made bets on how many years you would get, they made theories about what had happened, and they were not willing to even entertain the idea, that you spoke the truth. Even after I had showed them the _scutum_ , even then, they insisted that I misremembered. That you made it all up, that I had been duped.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I had saved his arse more than once and he would not do me the favour of just telling the simple truth!” Her voice had become very loud.

“I know why you did it, Hermione. But why didn’t you tell me? Why? All these years, I thought ….” His voice was hoarse. “All these years, I thought they had given me the benefit of the doubt, because Potter confirmed, that I recognized him, but even that …. “

“Why are you angry at me then, Draco?” Hermione wanted to know. Tears were springing into her eyes. “I was desperate.”

“I’m angry because you did not tell me!” He had become louder. “I might not have been declared innocent or a defector, but at least I was not guilty either. Or so I thought. And Potter…. ”

“That is exactly, why I did not tell you. Your trial was unfair enough. You should have been fully acquitted.” she shouted back.

“And not telling me, made that better how?” he roared. “You had no right to keep that from me. My dear Hermione.”

“When should I have told you?”, she yelled. Hermione tried to get through to him. “I didn’t even want to think about the trial during our honeymoon. And then you were framed with that bloody cauldron. I really should have ignored the contact ban then, just to tell you that I cheated to get you free, my dear Draco? That there was a chance that your trial would be re-opened? I’m sure that would have been so encouraging.”

“Well, anytime, after we reunited, would have been soon enough, I guess, my dear Hermione” Draco told her. She hated when he fled into sarcasm, probably because she did the same.

“How can I cover for you if I do not know?” He bent forward, his voice loud and intense. “What if someone decides to look at the fact, that Hermione Granger pressured a witness in her very first case? It’s not yet twenty years, it could still cost you your licence. And my trial could still be re-opened, my dear. And Potter….”

“Mum, dad?” Meg suddenly was in the door or their bedroom, standing on one foot and then on the other, the way she did, when she was barefoot. Her hair stuck out at one side. She must have slept already. “Are you fighting?”

Draco glowered at the interruption. “We are in the middle of a discussion, Meg, go back to bed,” he told her curtly.

“It doesn’t sound like a discussion.” Meg’s voice sounded small and frightened. “When you discuss, you call each other Malfoy and Granger. You just said, ‘my dear Hermione’, dad. You never say that. That means it’s serious and you fight.”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but closed it again. She hoped she did not look as flabbergasted as Draco did. She reached out to Meg, but their daughter stood rooted.

Draco inhaled slowly, and the silence became awkward, as they both searched for words.

“You’re right, Meg,” Draco finally said. “We fight. Couples fight, you know.”

“You don’t need to be afraid.” Hermione added. “Sometimes it is necessary to fight, to sort things out.” She smiled ruefully. “And you know we both have a temper.”

Meg looked at them with huge eyes. Draco took a few steps. “Come, I’ll tuck you in again, and I promise we won’t shout again.”

He took Meg’s hand and turned to Hermione. “I’ll go out for a short walk, and get my thoughts sorted, o.k.?”

Meg ran to her and hugged her, and Hermione nodded to Draco, mutely. Her thoughts needed some sorting as well.

***

Draco’s walk turned out to be not so short after all. Hermione had already drunk two mugs of tea to calm herself and to keep awake. She sat on her side of the bed, fully clothed, mug in hand, when he returned. He was sweaty, he must have been running instead of walking, and Hermione was tempted to chide him for not having changed into suitable shoes at least.

He sat on the edge of her mattress and gestured at the mug. “Another one?”

She shook her head. “I had too much already.”

She gestured at him. “Shower first?”

“I think, I first want to hear what really happened. I might need a cold shower after that.”

She told him then. She had gone to Grimmauld the morning before the last day of his trial, in her last attempt to convince Harry about his testimony. In a muggle trial she would not have been allowed to see Harry, but wizarding law had its perks. There was a bunch of Gryffindors at Grimmauld, including Ron and that had not helped Hermione’s mood. It did not help either that Neville delayed her in the entrance hall, in the vain attempt to hide the fact that George Weasley was acting as bookie for the bettings on the Malfoy trial. She had told Harry that she needed to talk to him. He had refused at first and told her that there was no need to reiterate, but had taken notice when she had told him that there was something important, something he needed to know.

Hermione remembered it clearly. They had gone to a separate room and Hermione had cast quick wards so that they would neither be interrupted nor heard.

_‘What is it you need me to know’ Harry asked._

_She had raised her wand and cast a scutum on him._

_‘Try to do magic’, she told him, standing deliberately relaxed._

_Harry paled._

_‘Just try it’, she said with bared teeth._

_Harry took his wand, and nothing happened._

_‘When you stand in the courtroom tomorrow, I want you to remember that feeling,’ Hermione said. ‘and try to imagine how it would be to have that feeling for the rest of your life.’_

_The betrayed look on Harry’s face hurt. Hermione steeled her heart against that look._

_‘Because if you do not tell the truth tomorrow, you will be subjected to my newest discovery.’_

_‘You found out how Snape did it?’_

_Hermione raised an eyebrow. ‘Like it’s hard?’_

_She stopped casting the scutum, deliberately evening her breath, as if it had been nothing at all. She turned one last time at the door. ‘Remember, Harry, the truth.’_

“You bluffed,” Draco said. “You bloody bluffed.” He let himself sink at her side.

“I always knew, you’re a snake at heart. Bloody ruthless.” He snorted. “And then Potter dug up my sketches and told the truth, the whole truth. Or what he thought was the truth.”

She nodded.

“He must have suspected you bluffed.”

“Or he thought I would not go through with my threat. He followed the letter of my request after all.”

They were silent for a while. Hermione studied her hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hermione looked up. “It is not, as if we had no other problems to think about. I wondered if I would ever get a client, you were disinherited…”

“You shouldn’t pretend that we thought about anything but sex during our honeymoon.” They both had to laugh.

“Please, Hermione,” Draco said. “Don’t evade. Tell me the truth. Why did you not tell me?”

Tears were running down her face. “You were so happy. And I felt guilty. I did not want to think about it and I’m quite good at blocking out. I knew I served Harry a wrong turn… He was my friend. I should have given him the chance to do the right thing. But the truth is, I did not see another way, and even in hindsight I don’t see, how I could have salvaged our friendship **and** ensure he told the truth at the same time.”

She took a shuddering breath. “Part of me wanted to make it up to you. Make it up to you, that I left you to fight with Harry after we escaped the Room of Hidden Things. Part of me knew that I would have to risk everything if I wanted to keep you. I would do it again, and it frightens me. I see a problem, and I find a solution, and then I just do it. The truth is, that **I am ruthless**. And I shied away from you realising how ruthless I really am.”

She suppressed another sob. “I often wonder, what would have happened, if I had told Ron and Harry about us from the beginning.”

“We will never know. It might have gone even more terribly.” He handed her a tissue. “Judging on how Potter’s and Weasel’s reaction to our marriage was. Just imagine someone bringing up that cauldron during my trial. It could have meant ten years at Azkaban.”

“Or Ron might never have proposed to me, if he knew I had feelings for you. And then Harry would not have been so hell bent on proving to the world and me, that I had been duped by you. They might not have fallen for that bloody cauldron.”

She began to cry again, and he moved closer and held her then.

“What I did was entirely wrong. On so many levels. The world should be grateful, that I did not become minister of magic.”

He stroked her back, shushing her. “If you expect me to agree that it was terrible you saved me from Azkaban, you’re going to wait quite some time.”

He bent his mouth to her ear, nibbling on her earlobes.

She freed herself from his arms. “It was still wrong.”

He nodded. “Yes, but Potter lying to get me into prison would have been wrong as well.”

“He might not have lied.”

“But you did not want to risk it.”

She nodded. “I did not want to risk it.”

He pulled her closer again. “We are old enough to know, that it is complicated, and we cannot do more than try. And maybe do not cross some boundaries.”

She settled against him, sighing, glad about a weight lifted she had not even known was still there.

“Why did Potter never tell on you?”

“Well, the whole Amortentia business happened and Harry and Ron were convinced that everything I had done had been under influence of Amortentia. They were prepared to forgive me for everything most nobly and generously.”

She snorted. “By the time that was out of the way, I had made a name for myself in all the house elf cases. And nobody believed in the Amortentia crap any longer, not really. He knew I pressured him, and I knew he had fallen for planted evidence. In a way we were even.”

He kissed her hair, breathing her in.

“Hermione, do you think, he would make a case now?”

Hermione was taken aback. “Why should he?”

“I don’t know really, but the Weasel is back in England, and seems to be hell bent on revenge or comeuppance. All I know is that Potter had me followed the other day.”

“He had you followed?” Hermione felt like someone had dosed her with ice cold water. “Why didn’t you tell me that? Pott-kettle, Draco? Have you become a hypocrite?”

“I didn’t tell you, exactly because I thought he had given that testimony on his own accord. That he tried to be fair within certain limits and that he tries to be fair now. And after that long time as an auror I doubt that he would fall for someone blatantly being framed again. He is a good auror and since then he has occasionally questioned evidence.”

Hermione studied Draco. She had long come to the conclusion that Harry had had nothing to do with that blasted Amortentia business, that he had been duped, but she had not known, that Draco thought the same. They rarely spoke about that time. It was too painful.

He ran his hands through his hair. “He did neither confirm nor deny I was tailed, of course, when I confronted him. He used to be an open book, but he is bloody good at deflecting by now.”

She took a deep breath, trying to will away the cold dread that had taken hold of her.

“Oh Merlin, it’s not as if we don’t have enough worries already.”

“My only consolation is, that they can’t really find anything and that he would be suspicious of something being planted. And as far as I know, you never tried to manipulate witnesses again, or did you?”

“No, I didn’t. Nothing was ever that important to me again.”

“Love,” he said. “You are a menace, you know that. I am glad, you’re on my side. And I’ve known for a long time, that you do have flaws, my love. Nevertheless, you do make me a better person.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you, Draco. If you wouldn’t give me perspective, I would be the bane of the wizarding world. Trying to force people seeing everything my way, hexing them left and right….” She smiled ruefully. “Apart from the fact that you ensure that I get food. And that means that my mood is better.”

He kissed her then, tasting the rest of her tears. He was tender at first, but their kisses soon turned more demanding, deeper and more passionate. It didn’t matter that it was terribly late, that Hermione’s face was swollen from crying or that Draco was dishevelled from running. It was more important to touch and feel and sink into each other.

“Want to join me in the shower?” Draco asked. His smile was mischievous. “I could dive for pearls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a ways, this chapter is the reason why I organised the fic with flash back and today chapters.  
> I honestly think, that Hermione putting pressure on Harry is something she would do. It also would cause Harry to be very suspicious and should explain why he acted as he did at the trial - and later.


	60. Disinherited (March 18, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna observes the judgement of the Malfoy trial.

Luna looked at her notes with an odd feeling of satisfaction. She leafed through her papers. Labelled under theory no. 23 she had allowed for the possibility that Draco had feelings for Hermione. It payed off to be meticulous about every possible angle. She nodded to herself.

She bent to Neville and showed him her notes. “See, Neville, I covered this angle.”

Neville looked at her. His eyes were wide open. “I did not expect that.”

“Believe me, Longbottom, no one expected that,” Luna heard someone say from behind them. She turned and saw one of the Slytherins from the year above her. The dark-skinned handsome one. He looked thoroughly amused about the whole situation. He had been absent in her sixth year, when Hogwarts had been hell. She remembered dimly that he had fled to Italy. He had an Italian name. Bizani?

“There was a possibility, even if it did not seem likely.” Luna pointed at her notes. She turned some of her pages and reached theory no. 28. She showed it to the wizard behind her. “There is now a distinct chance that his feelings are reciprocated.”

“Reciprocated? No way!”. The Slytherin laughed and Neville shook his head several times. Hannah at Neville’s other side looked as if Luna had grown horns. Luna really wished she knew why she attracted so many magimites, the invisible creatures that made people see things that were not there.

“Look it is easy. Love in general attracts limpiepinkies, and limpiepinkies double their activity in dangerous situations. So, if there is danger involved, and the person in love saves the other person, the limpiepinkies enhance the probability of reciprocation!”

“Limpiepinkies?” The wizard behind her repeated.

“I thought, wrackspurts were the only little creatures messing with our heads,” Neville said.

“Limpiepinkies do not mess with us,” Luna corrected him. “They thrive in loving human relationships and are in symbiosis with us. We benefit from their existence.” She snorted. “Really Neville, they are completely different from wrackspurts.”

“So, what are the odds of reciprocation?” The dark eyes of the wizard behind her shone with amusement.

“80% at least. If what Harry said is right, and he has loved Hermione for quite some time, there must have been many limpiepinkies and considering the danger and his efforts, it would be very unlikely that Hermione remained unaffected.”

“Would you bet on that?” the wizard whispered.

Neville turned around. “Zabini, what would you even bet? That Luna is right, or that she’s wrong?”

Ah, Zabini, that was the name. He smiled and laughter danced in his eyes. “Care to bet against me, Longbottom? Considering the odds, I’d take her side.” He pointed at Luna.

Neville seemed to think for a moment. “There have been so many strange turns in this trial, that I haven’t bet on anything. And I’m not going to start now.”

Luna patted him. “That is very sensible.”

“Don’t you want to listen to what the prosecution has to say?” Zabini asked.

Luna shook her head. “I didn’t even include Sloane’s interpretation in my notes. His take is absolutely illogical.”

Sadly enough, logic and an open mind to many different angles was not widespread in this courtroom. Luna saw that Ron was nodding along to Sloane’s argument. He was not the only one. Luna had tried to piece the evidence together as Sloane saw it, but it would have meant that Draco used a _confundus_ on that little elf and everybody should know that it was impossible to confound elves. She had struck out theory no. 16 early on. Briefly, Luna chided herself, that she had forgotten to tell Hermione about elves’ immunity to _confundus_ charms. On the other hand, Sloane had just outright refuted the elf’s testimony like so many in this courtroom. Luna sighed.

Luna tried to catch Hermione’s eyes when it was time for her speech, but her friend seemed too nervous. Hermione’s focus seemed off and Luna cringed when she began reading from her notes. But she caught herself and Luna looked at her theory no. 28 and felt very proud, when she ticked of one point after the other during Hermione’s speech.

It all made sense, in a wonderful and satisfying way, and she was surprised that everybody seemed to be dumbfounded at Hermione’s revelations.

Neville sat slumped as if he had been hit over the head. Hanna at his side had her mouth open like many other people. The noise in the room was incredible. Luna hoped that it would not attract wrackspurts.

Zabini tugged at her blouse. “How did you guess this?” he asked. His eyes were wide.

Luna raised her eyebrow. “Logic? Knowledge about limpiepinkies?” She tapped her lips with her wand. “The marriage was a surprise, though. I wonder how they managed that?”

“Who knows what is possible with a Muggle registry,” Zabini mused. “Maybe they didn’t even need to be present.”

Luna saw with alarm that Ron had wrenched himself away from George and was running towards Draco gaining speed. Harry was already there shouting at Draco, demanding to know what he had done to Hermione, while Dawlish tried to separate him from the accused.

She shook Neville. “Please, try to stop Ron. There are already so many wrackspurts here. A brawl will not help.” Luna wondered if Ron had been under the misguided impression, that Hermione’s breakup with him had not been serious.

Neville looked at her, for a short moment he seemed as if he had just awoken from a dream, and then he jumped up and hurled himself at Ron, catching his arms and holding him just a second after Ron had managed to put in one punch at Draco’s stomach.

Judge Prewett shouted for order. Hermione had lowered herself at Draco’s side who had doubled over in pain.

It was only due to the presence of so many aurors, that after ten minutes or so, there was a semblance of order in the room again.

“Ms Granger,” the judge said.

“Mrs Granger-Malfoy”, Hermione corrected him.

“You do realise that this muggle certificate means nothing according to wizarding law?”

“That is not entirely true. It is my right as a witch to get a muggle marriage registered with the ministry.”

“But Draco Malfoy is not a muggle.”

“Do I need to remind you of the exact words of the law? ‘Witches and wizards are allowed to marry people who cannot perform a wizarding magical bond and have the right to let their marriage be registered with the ministry to enjoy the rights of a legal marriage.’”

Hermione must have thought about this. The judge studied her with a bent head.

“I see,” he finally admitted. “So, do you insist that the minister himself, Arthur Weasley, registers your marriage.”

“Indeed, I do”

“I protest that.” Lucius Malfoy pushed himself forward.

The judge looked at him with a frown. “Mr Malfoy, get in line. We’re in the middle of a trial, and I have yet to call the wizengamot to vote on a sentence.”

He called for order again and hexed some very loud people to silence. “Mr Weasley, resume your seat or I will have to order you out of the room,” he shouted at Ron.

Judge Prewett studied the accused with a resigned look. “As entertaining as this was, I somewhat regret the decision to make this my last trial before retirement. This did certainly not go at all how I expected it to go.”

He looked at Hermione. “This was a highly irregular defence, Ms Granger or Mrs Malfoy or Mrs Granger-Malfoy or whatever. As you certainly know, it is not forbidden to defend a spouse, but marrying the accused during the trial is somewhat unusual and it might be argued to call for a resumption.”

The murmur in the courtroom grew again.

Judge Prewett glared at the audience. “I am tempted to close this trial to the public right now.”

He resumed his speech when silence had fallen again. “Since I do not see how a resumption of the trial could unearth any new evidence and since you did reveal your bias, I will not adjourn, although this would be within my rights as a judge. I call on the wizengamot to vote for a sentence.”

Luna saw her father approach the judge on behalf of the wizengamot. Prewett sighed so loudly, that Luna could hear it at her place. Neville had retaken his seat after bringing Ron back. Luna had heard him telling the Weasleys to hold on to their brother in any case. Percy had nodded with a grave mien.

“The wizengamot calls for a short break to discuss,” her father told the judge.

Luna could practically see the wrackspurts dancing happily around Prewett’s head.

“Half an hour,” he balked, raised his wand, and conjured the shimmering silver wall that separated the wizengamot from the courtroom and would ensure privacy. Luna’s father vanished behind it.

Judge Prewett turned his attention to Lucius Malfoy again. “Now, Mr Malfoy, you can tell me, why you would protest Ms Granger to get her right as a witch. I can only advice you to not say anything about her muggleborn status.”

“I am the head of the house, Draco cannot marry without my permission.”

“That is incorrect. Mr Draco Malfoy is of age and can do what he wants. The permission of the parents is just customary.” Prewett scowled at the man. “And don’t you start about pureblood families’ traditions, Mr Malfoy. Tradition is not law. I guess you are as astonished as about every other person in this courtroom, but I will not stand for disregard of the law. I suggest you get over the fact that you now have a daughter-in-law.”

Lucius Malfoy’s face grew an alarming shade of dark red. “You expect me to stand by when a gold-digger has ensnared my son?”

Prewett was visibly at a loss for words.

Zabini bent to Luna. “A gold-digger. Granger as a gold-digger.” He chuckled. “Do you have this somewhere among your theories?” he asked.

Luna looked at him sideways. “I’ve never seen lividgrains around Hermione. Never ever.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Zabini asked.

“Let me guess,” Neville chimed in. “Lividgrains induce greed and Hermione doesn’t have a greedy fibre in her.”

Luna smiled happily at Neville. He really had gained a deeper sense of understanding since she had come to know him.

Judge Prewett was calling for order again, this time the aurors had to detain Draco who had tried to reach his father. There was a myriad of wrackspurts around him.

“You are bloody insane, father, if you think that you can hide your prejudice against muggleborns behind this gold-digger accusation. Did you make a resolution this morning? A resolution that you would come up with the most ridiculous thing ever?”

The older and the younger Malfoy were trading insults in an alarming speed. Draco insisted that he was done with paying for the sins of his father, while Lucius told him off for being friends with muggles and voiced his opinion that Draco was faking the _scutum_ spell.

“Rita Skeeter is having a field day,” Zabini remarked. “She’ll write about this trial for months.”

Luna was distracted when she checked the Prophet’s journalist, who had two quills writing for her and was writing herself with a third. When she turned to look at the Malfoys again, the commotion had died down, but father and son still stood opposite to each other, but while Lucius still sported an alarming colour, Draco had paled.

The shouting had stopped though, and Draco’s next sentence was only spoken with a hiss, that nevertheless carried through the room.

“I will not give up my chance at happiness for your outdated bigoted opinions, father. You’ve done enough damage to my life.”

“If you insist doing this, I will not stand by you.”

“Lucius, no, please, no.” Mrs Malfoy pleaded.

“You’re not better than a squib and I will take care that the Malfoy fortune will not be yours. I would take your name away if I could. You might keep it and that ring to remind you of what you lost.”

Mrs Malfoy began to cry.

“You’re no son of mine and I cut you out of my mind and my heart for ever and all eternity.” Despite the fact, that Lucius spoke his words with a low voice, he was easily understood. Luna could feel a heaviness to the words that made her sure, that she had just witnessed a curse. She shuddered, wondering what kind of curse Lucius had invoked.

“Please, Lucius, do not do this to us, take that back,” Narcissa Malfoy pleaded.

Draco stared at his father as if he waited for lightning to strike him down. When nothing happened, he reached out with his left hand and found Hermione’s.

“So be it,” he answered. He turned his back to his father.

Lucius Malfoy looked at his son’s back for the time it took Luna to draw several breaths. He called his wife and left the courtroom. Narcissa stayed behind, pressed Draco’s free hand for a short moment, but followed her husband when he ordered her to come. Luna wondered if the older Malfoys had done a traditional wizarding marriage oath that involved the wife’s obedience. Narcissa did not look like she wanted to go.

“Wow,” Neville said. “No magic and disinherited. If he gets Azkaban now, I might feel sorry for him.” Hannah at his side scoffed. “Sorry, for Malfoy! Neville your heart’s too big.”

Luna bent to him and whispered in his ear. “I’ve felt sorry for him for a long time, no need to be ashamed for that.”

The shimmering wall that separated the wizengamot vanished and Luna’s father stepped forward and placed a piece of paper on the judge’s desk.

Prewett unrolled the piece and stood up. For the last time, he called for order.

“Mr Draco Malfoy, hear the verdict of the most esteemed wizengamot.”

Draco was shivering. He straightened up. Hermione held his hand, her face was so pale, that Luna could see her small freckles standing out even from where she sat.

“ _In dubio pro reo_ , Mr Malfoy. You are a free man. Disowned, but free.”

“Blimey”, she heard Zabini say in her back.

Luna could have sworn that she saw the limpiepinkies overcome the wrackspurts around Draco and Hermione. What a day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first chapter from Luna's PoV. It was absolutely fun to write her.....  
> Also there is some Blaise/Luna action in this chapter, just a little bit.  
> Hope you like it and tell me what you think!


	61. The wardrobe incident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Pansy unearth some secrets, some helpful some disturbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter heavy on Panville...

When Neville arrived at Hermione’s, Blaise and Luna had already made themselves comfortable on the sofa, but Pansy had yet to arrive. Easter break would start tomorrow. The children would be back then. For now, it was just Meg and Robert, and Luna’s Penny had come along as well. Neville let himself fall into a chair and gladly took the glass Draco gave him before he vanished into the kitchen.

“Long day?” Blaise wanted to know.

Neville nodded. “Teacher conference. And I haven’t seen Pansy all week. I must admit that the double courses take their toll, even though I share the DADA lessons with Astoria. I won’t be entirely unhappy when Dawlish returns.”

“Rachel says, you both are much better teachers,” Luna told him.

“Some parents don’t seem to think so.”

“They are not the ones getting the lessons,” Hermione scrunched her face. “And I think I know the kind of parents who complain. Am I wrong?”

“That was a rhetorical question, wasn’t it, Hermione? You are never wrong, and I suppose you could name each and everybody who sent me a howler over my teaching methods.”

He shook his head.

“You know, Neville, it is impossible to please all.” Luna observed.

“Who would have guessed?” It was a testimony to his exhaustion that he snapped at Luna. Luna of all people.

Luna was not put out. She waved her wand to perform her anti wrackspurt move and Neville sighed, not with exasperation, but with affection. He still did not believe in wrackspurts, limpiepinkies, magimites or any other ridiculous small creature Luna believed in, but the fact that she cared always left him feeling better. Luna had that effect.

Draco had finished whatever he had done in the kitchen and joined them, just when the doorbell rang.

“Half an hour, maybe forty minutes, until food is ready” Draco said.

Neville stood up eagerly. “Must be Pansy,” He went to open the door.

Pansy looked somewhat out of it. She had obviously run in the rain and was wet all over. She must have done some sleuthing in Muggle London again, because it was not like her to forgo drying spells.

She stepped in, spraying droplets all about her and Neville was alarmed at seeing her face.

“What is it, love?”

She shook her head and cast a quick drying spell. It did not help much. She still looked a little bit as if someone had tried to drown her. She looked at herself, grimaced and then called out. “Hermione, can I borrow something? My clothes have been positively ruined in the rain.”

“Of course, if you find anything that fits your taste. You know the way.” Hermione shouted back.

“I’ll take the opportunity and show Neville the new plissés you have upstairs, o.k.?”

Pansy didn’t even wait for Hermione to acknowledge her request. She pulled Neville upstairs, without even saying a proper hello or giving him a kiss. Neville was quite alarmed.

When they reached the small closet adjacent to the Granger’s bedroom where they kept their clothes, Pansy pulled Neville in for a kiss, a hot, desperate, searing kiss, that left Neville quite breathless and aroused.

She pressed herself against him and fumbled at his clothes.

“Love.” Neville cleared his throat, trying to keep a straight head. Ever since they had been at the Fawleys their lovemaking had been needy, urgent, and frequent and they had not seen each other for a week. Still, Neville usually needed privacy, and the small room at his friends’, that was just an enlarged wardrobe was not the most romantic of settings.

Pansy showered his face with kisses though, as if a fever had taken hold of her, and his mind became a bit foggy.

He thought he saw small tears on her lashes. Her day must have been very bad indeed. He let his lips trail over her eyes, drying her tears.

“Make love to me, please,” she whispered. To his own surprise that was all that was needed to persuade him.

“I love you, I love you,” he told her and let her take the lead, kissing her fervently, sinking into her, oblivious of his surroundings, giving in to the demands of their bodies as if they would never had another opportunity to make love.

***

Afterwards Neville was certain, that they had been much too loud, and he tried to regain his composure after his high. Pansy was all business, cleaning up, angling a black skirt and a green shirt from Hermione’s wardrobe. Her cheeks were glowing though, and she gave him another deep kiss. She looked better, as if Neville had relieved her of some burden.

Pansy put her own clothes into a bundle and dropped it at the entrance to retrieve them later. They entered the living room together, hand in hand.

Blaise raised his eyebrows, smirking at them. “Took you quite long,” he remarked. Neville felt blood rush to his face but refused to take the bait.

“Did you like the colour of the plissés?” Luna wanted to know. “I rather think they would not go well with your wallpaper.”

Usually, Neville would assume that Luna’s question was innocent, but this time he was not so sure. He had absolutely no idea what colour the plissés had, and he was at a loss for an answer.

“The wallpaper has to go anyway,” Pansy remarked with a straight face. Neville was sure, she had no idea about the colour of the plissés either.

Draco ushered them to the table. Meg sat at Neville’s side, showing him her newest acquisition, her phone, and told him that her siblings had them as well for emergencies even though there was no electricity in Hogwarts. Neville thought that Astoria’s finding, that power banks could be charged with magic, was shared by her far too often. He wondered if he should make regular checks for phones in Hogwarts. Neville gave his own number to his goddaughter and was a bit frustrated, that Meg had no problem at all to put him into her contacts. Being raised in a half-muggle household put her at an advantage.

He was then preoccupied with learning all about group chats, and Meg confided in him that she now had a phone to call dad and her bracelet to alert mum in case of emergency and that she could not be more ready to go to Hogwarts in September.

Neville interest in the enchanted bracelet was piqued easily, and he felt that he was not out of his depth in regard to that subject. Meg explained to him in a low voice that the bracelet was set to Hermione’s magical signature. If Meg wanted to, she could tear the bracelet and Hermione would be alerted and could come to the rescue. Neville inspected the slender silver bracelet curiously. Meg told him that there was a tiny bit of goblin silver worked into the bracelet and that this enabled the connection to her mother’s necklace. Apparently, one of Hermione’s Goblin clients had been willing to part with one of his pieces.

“She has portkeys attuned to our magical signatures, so that she can reach us in an emergency,” Meg whispered. “We are not supposed to tell anyone, but you are my godfather.”

“You secret is safe with me.” Neville smiled. Something tugged at his mind, but he pushed it away, to be examined later, when Draco’s chuckle suddenly registered with Neville.

“Are you satisfied now, Pansy? Having finally had comeuppance for the broom closet incident at your wedding?”

Neville stared at him, his embarrassment about his exceptional conduct just half an hour before vanishing in a bout of utter astonishment. “You have a nerve, Draco, bringing up the ‘broom closet incident’. My mother-in-law walked in on you!”

Blaise laughed. “Do you remember her face?.... I doubt it though, you and Hermione were absolutely and completely wasted.”

“To be quite fair, they warned us that they were going to be wasted.” Pansy shook her head.

“What was the ‘broom closet incident’?” Meg asked, while Robert repeated the new word, he just had heard.

“WASTED” he shouted.

“Nothing you would want to know,” Hermione answered her daughter.

Meg frowned. “Did you **fight** at Pansy’s and Neville’s wedding?”

“No, why would you get that idea? There was an abundance of limpiepinkies,” Luna told her.

“Meg,” Hermione bent down and hugged her daughter. “I told you. Dad and I had a fight, and yes, we shouted, but we sorted it out. There is no need to think that this happens all the time.”

“You fought?” Pansy asked. “You fought? As in fighting? Not as in competitive bickering?”

“The other day.” Hermione flushed. “When we came back from Hogwarts.”

“I thought that day was a success.” Neville was worried.

“It had nothing to do with the teaching. It was a bit silly, like all fights are,” Draco waved his hand dismissively.

“I don’t know if it was silly. You called mum ‘dear’. You never call mum ‘dear’. It was frightening.” Meg analyzed everything as usual. And Neville tended to agree. He had never heard the word ‘Dear’ at the Grangers. His parents-in-law called each other ‘dear’ and it made his skin crawl.

“O.k. I admit it, Meg. It was serious, but we sorted it out. And we won’t call each other dear anymore.”

“WASTED” Robert’s input made them all laugh.

The little boy was satisfied with his success. “POTTER”, he added.

That was followed by an awkward silence.

“Blimey,” Draco pressed his lips together. “Seems Robert was awake as well.”

“What did Harry do?”, Luna wanted to know. Her big eyes were suddenly full of worry. Blaise laid his hand on hers.

Draco stood up. He looked tense. “I’m not going to break unspoken agreements here. Anybody wants wine?”

Neville looked at Pansy. She was pale, which meant that she had an inkling. She knew something was on. It was as if there was a click in his head. He was about to open his mouth, but shut it again, when he saw Pansy send him a warning look.

“We don’t want to spoil a perfect evening by speaking about the chosen one, do we? If you have some of the white wine you had last time, I’d like to take that.” Neville smiled.

Blaise looked at him open-mouthed. “Yes, my lovely snakes, this is what Gryffindors call a subtle diversion. Try not to gloat at my clumsiness,” Neville carried on.

Draco laughed somewhat shakily. “I’ll fetch the white.”

“I got an owl by Hannah, by the way” Luna announced. “I am sorry to say that the marriage of Earnest Abbot and Lucille Malfoy is a dead end. They died without issue.”

She took her wand and made her anti wrackspurt spell. “That by the way, was a Ravenclaw diversion. And I’ll take the white as well, Draco.”

Blaise tried his hand at diversions as well and he and Luna shared tales about their journeys and soon the talk became lighter again. It was easy to slip into their usual friendly banter. School and children’s pranks were always good for some tales as well, and even Pansy talked about a young boy who had been caught trying to break into the Weasleys’ shop.

“There was no real need to apprehend him,” she summed up. “I threatened that he would end up as George Weasley’s guinea pig for their candies the next time he breaks into the shop.”

Whatever Harry had done or not done, was forgotten for the evening.

***

When they reached home, Neville told Pansy about Meg’s bracelet. The thought had sat in the back of his head the whole evening and he had finally worked out why the Grangers emergency system was so interesting. “This might be how the stoppers in the figurines work. You should check if there is goblin silver in them.”

“You mean the figurines you shouldn’t know anything about?” Pansy asked.

“The very ones. If a magic person handles the figurine, the stopper sends an alert to a recipient with his or her magical signature.”

Pansy frowned. “We can run an analysis on the silver without triggering the stopper, I think. But if we try to detect which magical signatures are set in, they might notice us sleuthing.”

She shook her head. “That was what was bugging me. When I redid the wards at Fawley’s house duplicating his signature, I kept thinking that I should see a connection to the case.”

Neville took her cloak and banished it to the wardrobe. Pansy still held on to her own clothes that had been ruined by the rain. Neville doubted that they were really ruined, but Pansy had other standards. Hermione’s skirt sat a bit loosely around her hips.

She still looked detached, as if even one part of the riddle solved could not pull her out of her sullen mood.

Neville finally voiced his suspicion, the one that had hit him during their dinner. “They’re under observation. Harry has put them under observation.”

He could see Pansy’s eyes misting over, her face contorting. He took her in his arms.

“You learned that today and that is why you were so out of it.”

Pansy just nodded and pressed closer to Neville.

“Whatever for? I mean, this is ridiculous. Is Ron behind that?”

“Hex me, if I know. It might be Ron, but it makes no bloody sense. And I certainly do not think that Harry would instigate an observation just as a favour to Ron. Several aurors approached me. Teddy Lupin of all people spoke to me, Baxter told me he was ordered to tail Draco a few weeks ago. Eugenia Shape wanted me to take it to the minister as it would clearly fall under harassment. And Viola gave me several hints, that I only worked out after Teddy had come out in the open. Because I just did not want to believe it.”

“Baxter,” Neville was baffled. “Baxter. He is the absolute worst at fieldwork.”

“Draco spotted him and that is probably how he knows. I just wonder why he didn’t tell Hermione before last week.”

“They must fear a repetition of the Amortentia mess. No wonder, they are tense. I wouldn’t trust the auror department in their place either. But it makes no sense at all.” Neville shook his head. Harry did rarely make mistakes, and to order Baxter, Baxter!, to tail a man who saw potential threats in every shadowy corner was botching it completely.

“That is not all. Dudley made a list of Fawley’s contacts and it is huge, some of them are Muggle contacts, high up in the Muggle government. This might be the most serious case we ever had, and I don’t know why Harry thinks he has to settle grudges that are decades old.”

Neville thought about Harry’s visit and kept silent for a while, organising his thoughts, running his mind through possible explanations. He almost wished, Luna and her habit of listing theories were with them.

“Draco was meant to notice Baxter,” he finally concluded.

Pansy frowned.

“That is the only thing that makes sense. Harry gave you his cloak. Harry said, he trusts two people in the department, Teddy and you, which means he doesn’t trust anyone else. He used me to get at Fawley.”

“So, he pretends to look at an old enemy and covers up where he really looks.”

Neville exhaled slowly to get his feelings under control. “I do not like it. This hurt you. He really has no qualms to manipulate.”

“We’ve been worried about the leak in the department for ages.” Neville saw that she was trying to control her breathing as well. She was as unhappy about this as he was, even if she defended Harry’s reasoning. “I am relieved, if only a little. It’s not another Amortentia disaster in the making. How very Slytherin of Harry.”

She laughed, but it was a dry and humourless laugh.

Neville stroked her back and tried to breath in unison with her to calm down.

“What are the chances that the Grangers’ house is bugged and that you’ll get to see some very flustered aurors on Monday who witnessed us having a little bit of action?”

He could feel her smile into his chest. “I sincerely hope not. But I’ll look extra hard for red faces.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pansy and Neville just keep creeping in.... But there are also some important discoveries.


	62. Honeymoon Pillow Talk  (March, 18 - April, 11, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's and Hermione's honeymoon - some glimpses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hints at sexual activity. It should still be within the T rating range....

“Your toes are so pink, they look like very small piglets.”

“My toes are no piglets.”

“I said they look like piglets, not that they are piglets. They are cute. You have cute toes.”

“Take that back. Nothing about me is cute. That is preposterous.”

***

“I really love that cake. You should have baked that for the wizengamot. And then I would have argued that nobody who makes cake like that can be evil.”

“Would that not count as bribe?”

“No, not a bribe, evidence, character testimony, whatever.”

***

“Do you think you could tell Prudy, that I love her, but that I do not care for her catching us red-handed?”

“To be fair, we did invite her for tea.”

“Yes, but I almost got a heart attack, when she apparated on our pillow.”

“We weren’t even near that pillow.”

***

“Have you called Malcolm yet?”

“A fortnight, Granger, we agreed on a fortnight of doing everything and nothing. And right now, I think I would like to be a pearl-diver.”

“A pearl-diver.”

He ducked under the covers. “There is the sea, wet and salty, and there is this beautiful pearl, and I want to dive in and find the pearl.”

“Draco, do pearl-divers search for pearls with their mouth?”

“It’s the best method, I’m sure. What do you think?”

“Hmm, I think I agree.”

***

“Take pity on me. I am a nobleman fallen on hard times. I want to eat. I would be willing to work for my food.”

“What would you be willing to do then? I am about to be a rich lawyer.”

He nibbled at her neck. “I could fulfil every dirty wish you have. It would be an arrangement to our mutual benefit. Some of your wishes might align with mine.”

She giggled.

“Your blush tells me that you have an idea. Tell me,” he purred.

She blushed and whispered in his ears.

His eyes alighted. “I love you, Hermione, yes let’s try that.”

He picked her up, sat on the bed and put her on his lap.

***

“My knight.”

“Why do you call me your knight? I don’t have armour. I don’t even wear clothes at the moment.”

“Because of your mighty sword of course.”

“Ah, do you like my mighty sword?”

“I am not sure. It is so menacing. I think I’d like it better, when it is properly sheathed.”

“What would be the proper sheath though?”

“Right now?” She grinned. “Close your eyes and stuff your ears and guess which sheath I use!”

“Yes, Granger, please, my sweet gold digger.”

***

“Of course, we’ll bring flowers when we visit your parents. Even if it is only a single rose. I will not sink so low, that I won’t bring flowers, when my mother-in-law invites us.”

“As long as we don’t bring sweets. They would abhor that.”

“Anything else? I mean I really want your parents to like me.”

“They already like you.”

“Yes, because they don’t remember your complaints about that damn Malfoy boy. I want them to like me in such a way, that they continue to like me, even if they happen to remember.”

“Why? Have you grown fond of my muggle parents, Malfoy?”

“You got me there. And I feel bad, that I couldn’t help them refurbishing their house.”

***

“You know, we should look for a ring. I want a ring on my finger. I want to show it around and tell everybody that I married the love of my life. I want that engraved on the inside. ‘March 14, 2002, love of my life’.”

“Unfortunately, rings don’t come that cheap.”

“We could start with a silver ring, maybe an Irish Claddagh ring, so there wouldn’t be a doubt, that it’s a wedding band.”

“Do you think our marriage has been registered yet?”

“Hmm. Minister Weasley might be reluctant.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care about the registration. We’re together now. I care about bragging about how the love of my life married me in the middle of a trial where I was the accused.”

***

“Let’s just make pasta.”

“You’re a fiend when you’re hungry. I wanted to make risotto.”

“That takes too long. I need food now, or I might be forced to eat other things.”

“Other things?”

“Earlobes for example. Although they are too small, it’s not more than a snack.”

***

“Do you want children?”

“Hmm. I haven’t thought about that, to be honest. Not yet, I think.”

“We have time. Just don’t you forget the contraceptive charm.”

“I’m not stupid, Malfoy.”

***

“I definitely don’t want to talk about my father”

***

“Do you want me to read out loud what the prophet says?”

“Just give me the gist of it.”

“Did you know you _imperiused_ me? Skeeter is a bit unclear on how you managed to do this, though, but she has interviewed some people who swear that they noted my glassy unfocused eyes. I should send her a jar and tell her that she’d better not bug me too much.”

She laughed.

“She interviewed Luna! Listen to this: The member of the Order and former Ravenclaw is certain she saw an abundance of limpiepinkies around the newly weds.”

“Limpiepinkies?”

“Skeeter seems to think they are ominous. But they are not, they are attracted to love.”

“So, Looney actually thinks we’re in love? She must be the first!”

“Don’t call her Looney. She’s a sweet soul. And she’s really quite observant if you sort out what all her little creatures mean.”

“I stand chastened. We can’t afford to call people lunatic who actually see that love is all around us.”

“And she promised me that she would look after my bureau and my mail during our honeymoon.” She crunched her nose. “Not, that I expect to get much mail or many clients.”

“I am sure, once the dust is settled, people will see that you are the best lawyer they can get. You do not even shy from marrying your school nemesis to win a case. That is what I call dedication.”

“I cannot in good conscience use this method more than once.”

“In sincerely hope not. If you marry your next client as well, I’ll have no option but to kill him and then I will go to Azkaban. All your efforts will be in vain.”

“We can’t have that.”

***

“I think from all of Luna’s creatures I like the magimites best.”

“What do they do?”

“They make people think and see strange things around them, that they have grown horns or say strange things or wear funny earrings.”

“I take it the magimites cluster around Luna?”

“Yes, Luna is sometimes quite put out, that she can’t get rid of them, when she is so brilliant at dispelling wrackspurts.”

***

“The Malfoy trial still makes the headlines in the Prophet. More ridiculous theories.”

“Skeeter really milks it.”

“She’s become quite good at hiding her own takes in interviews… Just to skirt her agreement with me. Some interview mentions Amortentia, it’s on page 5. That is preposterous. And they comment on the irony that the woman who argued to ban Amortentia has become a victim of the potion.”

“Can you please show me how exactly you are a victim of the potion? Hermione, please? Come here. Kiss me, kiss me here.”

“Here, there’s your ‘kiss’, ferret boy.”

“That’s a cushion, not a kiss, Granger. Your addled brain doesn’t get the difference, does it?”

***

“Leave that prophet, just throw it in the bin. No prophet for the rest of the honeymoon. I don’t want another cushion in my face.”

…

“Hey, I said, I don’t want another cushion in my face. You’ll pay for that, witch.”

***

“You know what really sucks about the trial?”

“The outcome didn’t suck.”

“I would have loved to see ‘The Lord of the Rings’ in cinema… I was looking forward to it… and then I spent Christmas and the following months in that bloody abandoned bureau.”

“Did you read Tolkien?”

“Yes, I liked it, even though Gandalf reminded me a little bit of Dumbledore.”

“Less manipulative though. I think I’ll never forgive Dumbledore for the fact that he basically ignored your problems in sixth year and led Harry like a lamb to the slaughter. Who’s your favourite of the fellowship?”

“Boromir, obviously. Tragic guy, tragic death. I wanted to see that.”

“We’ll buy the DVD once it comes out.”

“If we’ll have the money.”

“We won’t be that hard pressed, I am sure. And we can always persuade my parents to buy it.”

***

“Draco, please, don’t.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, my breasts are so tender today. It feels weird. As if someone put a net over them. A net under tension.”

“Maybe, if I do that, just very, very carefully….”

“I mean it Draco, there are other places of my body you can kiss.”

***

“I feel so queasy. Are you sure that yesterday’s eggs were o.k.?”

“I feel fine. You do look a bit pale, love. I’ll make you some tea. Just stay in bed.”

***

“Here’s the tea. Do you feel like eating something?”

“I am not sure. I feel queasy but I also feel hungry.”

“Hm. Should we see a healer? You are awfully pale.”

“No, I don’t want to spoil the honeymoon.”

“Prolonged honeymoon of three weeks.”

“Yes, because my husband is a lazy aristocrat and because, somehow, we had a house elf helping who shouldn’t even be here.”

“I did most of the cooking, though. Prudy just complained about my use of lemons. And she only came over on her free days.”

“I might be able to eat some bread or toast.”

“I could get you some French bread from the bakery next door.”

“I’d love that.”

“You stay in bed, love. Sip that tea, and I’ll be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They needed some fluff .... as a respite ...
> 
> Thanks to Marydri for bouncing ideas back and forth!


	63. Nott Villa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger-Malfoys take Astoria and her muggle girlfriend to a visit to the Notts. They still search for a possible heir.

The van was quite full, with all of them and Professor Greengrass and her girlfriend on top. For Robert’s sake they listened to Winnie Pooh on the way. Dad had promised that it would be the much more interesting ‘A history of the world in 1000 objects’ on the way back, when Robert would hopefully sleep. Still, they had fun. They all knew the story by heart and as it happened, Ellie, as she insisted on being called, despite being a full professor at a muggle university was quite familiar with it as well. They all quoted Piglet’s agitation about the Heffalump in unison, and it was only Professor Greengrass who seemed at a loss. Rina saw her mum’s smile and suspected that Robert had just been an excuse. Ellie certainly was at ease, not that she looked like she could be easily ruffled.

Mum and dad fought about where to turn. Dad said loudly that he knew the way, that the satnav was plain wrong, while mum insisted that she had accounted for the muggle repelling charms when she entered the address.

Meg told Ellie that mum and dad were not fighting, but simply discussing. “It’s not serious,” she told Ellie. “Unless they call each other ‘dear’.”

Somehow dad had noted Meg’s remark. “For fuck’s sake, Meg, will you stop with this. Mum and I sorted it out, we’ve told you. There is no reason to fret.”

“I’ve never heard mum and dad call each other ‘dear’,” Colin said. He shuddered elaborately.

“WASTED”, Robert said.

Mum laughed. “Oh my, I hope Theo and Daphne do not call each other dear. It seems like we programmed Robert to say wasted, every time someone says dear.”

“Wasted,” Robert said. He smiled his angelic smile that duped so many people into believing he was a little angel.

Rina wondered what mum and dad had fought about. Meg had not been very forthcoming.

When dad turned into a small lane and the van came to stop in front of a gate, mum murmured something inaudible.

“What did you say, my dear?” Dad’s drawled out the last word on a real long note.

“Wasted,” Robert sang.

Mum laughed again. “I was voicing my discontent with the fact that you were right about the way.”

Professor Greengrass left the van and waved her wand. The gate transfigured into a huge iron gate with guilded bars. The park behind the bars was huge and the villa was sitting on top of a slope, the sun was making the marble stairs shine. Rina tried not to gape.

“Will we reach the house before evening?” Ellie asked. She smiled but Rina thought she was insecure.

“I’ll try my best.” Dad answered.

“Dad,” Lizzie wanted to know. “Is Malfoy Manor as grand as this?”

“Grander,” Mum’s voice was barely audible.

Dad shot her a look from the side. “Don’t think about that day, Hermione.”

“What about the Greengrass estate?”, Ellie wanted to know.

“About the same size,” Professor Greengrass remarked.

It really took them about twenty minutes to reach the house. Dad didn’t want to drive too fast on the gravel path.

House elves were busy preparing tea on the terrace, and the Notts greeted them. Mr Nott smiled openly and friendly and circled the van with curiosity. He gave his wife’s sister a peck on the cheek. Ms. Nott stayed a little more aloof. Ms. Nott was perhaps the most beautiful woman Rina had ever seen, every shiny blond hair exactly in place, a decently shaded lipstick, and just a touch of mascara. She was all gracious hostess. Still, Rina felt very much out of her depth. The porcelain looked as if it had cost a fortune and Rina hoped that Robert would not break anything.

Dad bent down and brought Ms. Nott’s hand close to his lips without touching it. Suddenly Rina understood why he wore a suit and why mum had insisted they all dressed at their best. Even in her best dress she felt like she did not belong. She wondered how Ellie felt, Ellie with her black jeans and sensible boots, and her short haircut.

Mr Nott clapped dad on the back. “Tea will be ready in about half an hour. Just enough time to do the research part, I hope. Why would you even want to find a distant cousin? Do you hope he might give you some of the money, if you find him?”

“This is not about the money, Theo. This is about a chance to see my mother.” There was a ghost of a frown on dad’s forehead.

Rina followed dad into the house, even though Mr Nott had not invited her in. She wondered if he thought business was for men or if he was just not a very considerate person. Ms. Nott had been true to her word. There was a big manuscript on the table, and it was opened at the page where the Frederic Greengrass and Lysistrata Malfoy marriage was part of the family tree.

“May I?” Rina asked. She unpacked her pencil and paper and worked her way through the volume. She had done this several times with the books at Hogwarts after all. Mr Nott chatted on during her research, presumably he talked about some of dad’s former Slytherin housemates. Dad made appropriate small talk sounds but was focussed on Rina following the lines of descendance.

Rina could follow the issue of Frederic and Lysistrata Greengrass for three generations, and at first it looked good. They had had four children, all married, and Rina followed their offspring, meticulously taking notes, while Mr Nott still would not be silent. Rina wondered if he was someone who tried to bridge awkwardness with talk. Dad and he had been friends in their childhood, but Rina wondered what common ground was left to them.

After about twenty minutes, Rina had researched every one of the four branches and had met a dead end for each. The last one was a tragic Quidditch accident where both of the Fawley brothers, issue of the Max Fawley and Tilda Greengrass marriage had taken deadly falls from their brooms. At least, the volume **gave** the information. Rina had seen too many family trees that focussed solely on the male line.

She looked up, her eyes met her dad’s and she shook her head. Dad made no comment, his mouth was a thin line.

Dad looked at his watch. “We just have time to look for the Theodore Nott of 1788.”

Mr Nott led them deeper into the house and they reached a grand ballroom where one wall was covered with the Nott family tree. And indeed, there was Theodore Nott, married to Euphemia Malfoy in 1788, and the line went directly down to the Theodore Nott who stood beside them and his two sons.

Rina edged closer and looked at the tapestry. It looked as if someone had mended it, very meticulously, but mended, nonetheless. She spoke a spell that bent the air, so that she could study the details like through a looking glass.

Dad stood at her side, a frown on his face. “What happened here?”

Through Rina’s looking glass spell, the mended threads were clearly visible. “Family tapestries are magical. They should mend themselves, unless there was a curse.”

Mr Nott’s laugh did not sound entirely genuine. “Well, this is our skeleton in the cupboard.”

“You see, this Theodore was actually a Theodora. She was an only child, her father had died early and her mother raised her as a boy.”

“And she was not found out?”

“No, they lived as recluses, she did not attend Hogwarts and she was an expert at illusions. Her marriage to Euphemia Malfoy was much happier than many other Nott marriages to be honest. They loved each other dearly.”

“Whose child was Eustace Nott then?” Dad pointed at the line that went from Theodora and Euphemia to the next generation.

“Theodora masqueraded as a man, not only because it gave her greater liberty, but also because she hated her cousin Dionysos and she wanted her line to carry on the Nott name, and her blood.”

“She got pregnant by a random man, they had invited into the house and they raised the resulting twins as the children from their marriage.”

Dad scoffed. “He was a muggle, Theo admit it. He was a muggle, they would never have risked letting their children be sired by a wizard who could tell on them.”

Mr Nott pursed his lips, neither denying nor confirming dad’s guess.

“What did they do to him?” Rina wanted to know.

“They obliviated him and sent him on. We have no idea who he was.” Mr Nott averted Rina’s questioning eyes.

Rina smiled. “Hopefully, he was happy for a while.” Her throat felt dry.

“Well, Theo, there goes your chance of becoming the heir of the Malfoy fortune.” There was just a tiny hint of disappointment in dad’s voice.

“I don’t need any more money. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Mr Nott laughed. “Let’s get the tea.”

He led the way out and Rina dawdled on their way out. When Mr Nott was out of earshot, she raised herself on tiptoes to whisper in her father’s ears. “Do you think it’s the truth?”

“What, Theodora/Theodore or the obliviation?”

“The obliviation.”

“I sincerely hope so. The other alternative I can think of is worse. But your mother would probably tell you that I have a sinister imagination.” Dad did not explain further, but Rina did not need to ask. Sometimes Dad really did not seem to believe in people’s inherent goodness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More mystery....  
> This chapter and Theodore/Theodora was part of my outline since the very beginning.... just saying....


	64. Nott Villa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin has only slightly better luck than Rina with his line of research.

Lizzie and Meg soon sat at a table with the Nott twins and played “Exploding snap”. House elves were bustling around, and Colin thought it was a great opportunity to talk to other elves than the Hogwarts elves. The elves did not wear livery and Ms. Nott did not reprimand them for talking to the guests. Colin was not accustomed to House elves in old wizarding households, because Pansy and Neville had none and the Zabinis only had one, but there were sayings like “the best house-elf is a quiet house-elf” and he felt himself warming a little to the Notts.

“Hi, I am Piddy! I have heard about the Malfoy from Gryffindor and his search for elf lore.” One of the elves addressed him.

Colin felt himself redden. “I just want to understand, why elves in muggle literature are so different than what the wizarding world knows about elves. And I want to learn about elves’ history. It is a pity that you don’t write your history down.”

“I can show you something,” The elf pointed at the corner of the house, where a beautiful rose bush grew. Colin noted that he talked like Prudy, referring to himself as I and not with his name.

“Oh, please do,” Colin said and let himself be led closer to the corner of the house.

“I was born a free elf, the day, your parents married, and the cornerstones cracked.”

“You mean, when the house elf rebellion started?” Colin’s was excited. “I’ve never met an elf who is that young. The elves at Hogwarts are all older.”

“That is why I can tell you.” He looked at Colin, expectation in his eyes.

“You can tell me what?” Colin asked.

“You ask”, the elf answered.

That was a bit vexing. Why show him and then shy out of telling the story in full. Colin frowned. It seemed like he had to find his way through.

“What does ‘the cornerstones cracked’ mean?”

“Look closely,” Piddy answered.

Colin knelt on the ground, with no care about the fact that he would stain his trousers.

“Yes, there is a fissure in the stone, just here at the base. It’s as thin as a hair.”

Colin stood up again, and Piddy nodded gravely.

When the elf was not forthcoming, Colin tried to delve further. “Crack in the cornerstones, you said? Like in many cornerstones? And that happened the day my parents married? Or probably when their marriage was registered in the wizarding world?”

“All the cornerstones in all the houses,” the elf answered. “It is very important.”

“So, Malfoy Manor and the Greengrass estate and all of them, they have the same fissure?” That must be what the elf meant with ‘all the houses’, all pureblood houses.

“Every house with elves,” Piddy informed him.

“But why?” Colin was puzzled.

“They are waiting for the chisel. The chisel that can scatter the shield, the chisel that can change the elves’ destiny.”

“Sorry, I don’t understand.” Colin shook his head.

“You will,” Piddy smiled at him, just as mum called them to come to tea.

They drank tea and Colin was surprised that people could talk at such lengths about so many boring subjects. He usually enjoyed when he could be part of adults’ discussions, but not this time around. By the end of tea, he was up to date about every pureblood family, or it felt like that.

Some of the names he knew from Hogwarts of course, but he really was not that interested in the piano lessons of Xenia Rowle. He wondered if Ms. Nott was just not knowledgeable enough about other subjects. And he wondered, why she did not ask Ellie anything. Supposedly this visit was about getting to know Ellie, wasn’t it? Colin was dying to learn about her job at university. University sounded like a fun place.

“Max Rosier was so worried about his Stephen’s magic. He was almost ten before he showed any signs of accidental magic. And the Sloanes also were beside themselves with anxiety. My father told them to consult with one of his friends, you know, Mr Fjodor, the Russian whose daughter Natasha is in such a dreadful battle for custody with her terrible ex, what’s his name again?”

“Terry Boots,” mum put in. “He’s my client.”

Ms. Nott seemed taken aback by the fact that there was another side to the battle for custody, but obviously decided it would be rude to comment on that. “Anyway, the Sloanes went to consult with him and it turned out their Wilfried had magic after all.”

“I am certain that was such a relief.” Professor Greengrass’ voice sounded strained and Rina thought she gave her sister some signs to stop that particular line of talk, but Ms. Nott carried on.

“I am so glad that my twins showed magic at five. I wouldn’t know what to do if they had no magic.”

“They probably would do what squibs have done for centuries. Live in the muggle world,” his father cut into the discussion. Colin thought he could hear a hint of anger in Dad’s voice, although he was still smiling politely. “It is not that bad.”

“Oh yes, you would know, of course. For a moment I almost forgot. Tell us, how do muggles cope? I think it must all be terribly difficult, Draco, my dear.”

“WASTED”

Ellie laughed loudly. “Your little one really loves that word, doesn’t he, Hermione?”

“It’s not difficult at all, Daphne.” Dad’s smile did not reach his eyes, his face was the mask Colin associated with their brief excursions to Diagon Alley to get their school stuff. “You know, muggles have come up with all kinds of things. By now their technology can do most of the things, wizards and witches can do. Ellie here is a historian. She can tell you all about the advancement of technology.”

“After what I know from Astoria, I would say, that we have everything you do, save apparating perhaps. That sounds terribly convenient and makes me quite jealous.” Ellie chimed in.

“And there are some things that might be better.” Dad added.

“Better?” Ms. Nott’s voice had raised a pitch, plainly showing her disbelief.

“You know, Muggle mail is much faster with electricity and phones nowadays, about as fast as sending a _patronus_ I would say, and then there is the internet.”

“The what?”, the Notts asked.

“You people have no internet?” Ellie managed the high-pitched disbelief as well as Ms. Nott.

She laughed. “Although there are people who say the internet was a terrible idea.”

Dad scoffed. “Only for people with too much time at their hands.”

Now, this promised to become much more interesting than talk about pureblooded children. Dad took out his phone. Colin could see him checking the signal.

“Not very good, but it will probably work. Do you have any remaining anti-muggle devices spells at work here, Theo?”

Mr Nott shook his head. “I changed all of the anti-muggle spells after the war. Took me three years. By now we hide with illusions and Do-not-notice-me spells.”

There was a glint in dad’s eyes. “Ask me any question, and I’ll answer in less than one minute, even if it is something, I don’t know anything about.”

The Notts had a lot of questions, but between dad, mum and Ellie, Google and Wikipedia they really managed to answer everything. Who had been muggle minister in 1963, when the Romans had come to Britain, how many miles it was to Glastonbury.

Colin would have felt sorry for the Notts, because very soon, the talk became a competition between dad, Mum and Ellie. Mum took out her own phone as did Ellie, and then she put a _scutum_ on them and they were engrossed in firing questions and finding answers at such a speed that the Notts barely managed to put in the occasional question.

Colin exchanged glances with his siblings. Rina grinned, Lizzie rolled her eyes, Meg hid her giggle behind her hand. Colin himself chimed in with the occasional answer he just pulled out of his head because he knew.

Ellie obviously enjoyed herself, and Professor Greengrass smiled at her girlfriend. The Notts finally understood that they had a better chance, if they asked questions about the wizarding world, but mum and dad still did not run out of answers.

Mr Nott asked a question about a very particular paragraph of wizarding law on time turners and mum looked at her phone and produced the answer in seconds.

“How can this muggle net produce answers on wizarding law?” their host wanted to know.

“I cheated,” mum smiled. “That is not actually on the internet but in my personal cloud.”

“Your personal what?”

“I scanned the wizarding laws, I mean I sort of transformed them with a muggle device, and then I made searchable texts for Hermione to use. It was my present for our fifteenth wedding anniversary.” Dad shared a smile with mum.

“And it was the best present I ever got.” Mum winked at dad.

“Your husband gave you law texts and you think that was the best present ever?” Ms. Nott asked. “You are weird, Hermione, absolutely weird. I would kill Theo if he didn’t give me jewellery for our anniversary.”

“Searchable is the keyword here, Daphne. Searchable and available anywhere.”

Ellie elbowed Professor Greengrass who sat at her side. “Relationship goals, dear.”

“Wasted,” Robert said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Theo Nott in most fics and I feel kind of sorry, that he only is a very small side character in this fic, but with Draco living in muggle London because of his scutum, I think it was unrealistic to give him more than two close Slytherin friends (and these are obviously Pansy and Blaise).


	65. Amortentia (April 10, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A finding at Draco's flat seems to provide the answers Harry and Ron have been looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear, you are all going to hate me for this chapter..... But you were warned, you knew the 'Amortentia mess' was coming...

Ron stirred listlessly in his tea. It wasn’t that the tea at the auror department was not good, but ever since the Malfoy trial had ended with Malfoy and Hermione walking out of the courtroom hand in hand, everything seemed to taste stale.

“We will get behind what he did, Ron,” Harry tried to console him. “We’re aurors.”

Ron shook his head. “I really wish, Malfoy had just stayed in Muggle London. I wouldn’t even have minded that, if I had known.”

That might not be entirely true. If someone had asked him half a year ago, if he would have minded Malfoy living in Muggle London amongst Muggles, without magic and working like a common muggle, he probably would still have insisted that the bloody ferret should face the consequences for his actions. But now….

Who would have guessed that the git would walk free out of the courtroom and steal his girl? That was preposterous, not at all how it should have been. Ron was a hero, he had destroyed a horcrux, even though he had to remind himself constantly that this was the case. He was supposed to live happily ever after with his pretty wife, his best friend and his sister, a tight knit group, forged in the fires of war.

Nobody should have been able to tear them apart. And yet, Malfoy had come, had been arrested for Merlin’s sake. It should have been an opportunity for Ron to gloat. Only, the ferret was free. Free! The bloody wizengamot had let him get away free! And now Malfoy was with Hermione, married, if only after Muggle fashion. Ron tried very hard not to let any images of what that entailed enter his mind.

“I still don’t get it. I mean he could fake this whole _scutum_ business.”

Harry shook his head. “No, the way hexes rebound when they hit him looks exactly like when a _scutum_ is cast. We tried that.”

“Maybe this permanent _scutum_ is only half the truth and he can still cast after all. And he might have put an _Imperius_ on Hermione.”

“Ron, we’ve been through this. You can’t do magic under a _scutum_. It’s not possible.”

Harry sighed. “And it wouldn’t explain….” His voice trailed off.

“You mean, it wouldn’t explain that Hermione kissed Malfoy in sixth year? How did she call it? Stolen kisses?” Ron could feel the anger rising again.

“It can’t be true.” Harry shook his head. “If it were true why did she never tell us? Why did she never tell you?”

Ron felt the by now familiar squeeze around his heart. Why, indeed?

“Do you think she …. “ He breathed in and tried again. “Was she already in an understanding with Malfoy when we had our terrible row? I can’t help but think about all these hours of consultation.”

“I don’t know, Ron. It is as if she is another person…. He must have done something to her. Anything else doesn’t make sense.”

“We’re going to figure it out.” Harry let his fist fall on the table.

“She told Luna that she broke up with me. What did she tell you?”

“That there wouldn’t be a wedding.”

“That’s what she told me as well. She **might** have meant it as a break-up.” Ron let his head sink in his hands. “To think that I was convinced that all would be o.k. once this bloody trial was over and Malfoy safely away in Azkaban. I pictured myself comforting her over her lost case.”

He laughed bitterly. “I still can’t believe the wizengamot let him go. Harry, maybe you should have ….” Ron did not finish the sentence. It was no use. Harry had done his best, looked for Malfoy’s sketches, just an hour before he had stood as witness, and yet Hermione had somehow turned everything upside down again. From hindsight it was always easy to say: ‘you should have’.

“I had no idea. I had absolutely no idea. Can you believe it. He must have lusted after her at least since the Yule Ball. The bloody prick.” He still wondered, how Harry had guessed it.

Hermione should have been appalled, disgusted, and then… Ron snorted. ‘Stolen kisses’. Was this supposed to be a love story? He hated how Hermione had played the star-crossed lovers. Malfoy was just a selfish git who used her to get out of prison. That was not love. That could not be love.

He raised his mug to his mouth and made a face, when he realised that the tea had become cold. It was with relief that he saw Dawlish approach. He was burning to go on a mission. Hopefully, Yaxley had been sighted. Ron would love to hunt a death eater.

Dawlish let himself fall into the chair next to them. “We found something”.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “That is not very specific. Which case and what did you find?”

“In Malfoy’s muggle flat.”

“We must have turned that around about a hundred times after he was arrested.” Ron was torn between curiosity and the need to defend his own diligence.

“The Malfoy case is officially closed,” Harry cut in. “He can’t be tried for the same thing twice.”

“It’s not a criminal offence, not yet, anyway, but you could still use it against him.” Dawlish looked positively smug. Dawlish had been as unhappy about the verdict as Ron.

“Smith found it, not directly in Malfoy’s flat, but close enough and nobody else could have put it there, in the middle of Muggle London.”

“Just spit it out.” Ron loved a good story, but there was no need to draw this out.

“Under the planks of the corridor that leads to his flat. Vials. A cauldron.”

Ron frowned. “It can’t have been directly at his flat’s door. We checked that.” He wished again that Malfoy had just stayed in his tiny flat forever. Ron had been surprised how small it was when he and Harry had sifted through Malfoy’s meagre muggle belongings.

“Potions need spellwork.” Harry was not convinced either.

Dawlish grinned. “Well, Malfoy claims that he can brew potions without spellwork, doesn’t he? And we learned something interesting when we brought the remainders of the potion to Professor Slughorn to let him run an analysis.”

“There is one potion that can be brewed without spellwork. It is quite tricky, it must simmer long periods at the exact temperature, and it takes a long time, but it can be done. If you had enough patience and skill, any muggle could do it, provided he or she had the recipe.”

“You really keep us in suspense, but let me take a guess, it’s not Phoenix Potion.”

“Phoenix Potion!”, Dawlish scoffed showing what he thought of that claim. “Amortentia.”

Ron jumped up. “Amortentia! That bloody bastard! I’m going to kill him.” His anger flared and rolled through him in a sudden rush.

Harry caught Ron’s arm and pulled him back into his chair. “You know very well, that Amortentia is not illegal, Ron. So, you’re not going to kill Malfoy and land in Azkaban yourself.”

“But surely, we can give Hermione the antidote!” He loosened himself from Harry’s grip. Relief almost made him giddy. They had just to give Hermione the antidote and then everything would be back to normal.

“You remember, Harry? Merlin, when I swallowed that potion Romilda Vane had made for you and Slughorn gave me the antidote? My feelings just evaporated like mist in the sun!”

He also remembered that he had almost died afterwards if it had not been for Harry’s quick thinking. That had been Malfoy’s fault as well.

“We might have trouble getting close enough to her.” Harry objected.

“We’ll ask Luna. She’ll do it, once she knows about the Amortentia.” Ron had listened in to Luna and Hermione discussing a meeting after the honeymoon. Honeymoon! He shuddered involuntarily. To think that Hermione had been dosed with that vile potion.

Dawlish harrumphed. “There is a catch with Amortentia that is brewed like that according to Professor Slughorn.”

“You should think it is less potent than the version with spellwork, but it is actually more potent,” he explained. “The antidote does not work. The only remedy is to cut the victim off from the exposure.”

Ron felt himself deflate. They could not very well bundle up Hermione to separate her from her husband. She would definitely not like that. “If he had gone to Azkaban as he should have, then they would be separated by now. Damn! How did he even give it to Hermione? It must have been that blasted elf!”

Harry was not convinced this was helpful either, even though his face was burning with anger. In his face Ron saw the same need to do something he felt himself. “Dawlish, Amortentia is not illegal. I don’t see how this helps us.”

“Well, Malfoy won’t go to Azkaban for that, but still. You would have to play your cards carefully.”

Ron was tempted to throttle Dawlish. Why couldn’t the man just say what he had planned?

“Amortentia might not be illegal, but the law allows to apply the antidote forcefully to a victim if relatives insist.”

Dawlish made a dramatic pause. “Or in case relatives do not exist, someone reasonably close.”

“Hermione’s parents have returned.” Ron interjected.

“But they do not remember their true names and they are muggles anyway.” Dawlish waved Ron’s objection away. “So, who could be someone reasonably close?”

“Would the executor of her will be close enough?” Harry seemed to have a better idea where Dawlish was headed.

“For a muggleborn, with obliviated parents, with no magical relatives? Certainly.”

“Hermione didn’t change her will yet, Ron, did she?” Harry looked at Ron over the rim of his glasses.

“As far as I know, she didn’t.” Ron’s heart beat hard in his chest. This might be a possibility. Hermione would be angry as a hellcat, but it was only for her own good, and she would see that, once she was rid of the effects of Malfoy’s blasted potion.

“So, I could petition for administering an antidote to her?”, he asked eagerly. “And since there is no antidote, the wizengamot would enforce her separation from Malfoy?”

“That is the idea,” Dawlish patted Ron on the shoulder as if he were still in training and not a full auror. Not for the first time Ron wondered if he should just leave auroring and do something where he would not be patronised.

Harry shook his head. “But would the wizengamot separate a married couple? Your father was not happy about it, but he got several reminders by Hermione to register the marriage. Didn’t he say something like that yesterday when we were at George’s?”

Dawlish laughed. “Have you not heard yet? The wizengamot has a vested interest in separating our newlyweds.”

This time Harry was as clueless as Ron, which reassured Ron that the problem was Dawlish speaking in riddles and not his own inability to follow.

“You do own a house elf, Mr Potter, don’t you?”

“I freed Kreacher two years ago, on Hermione’s insistence. She worked out a contract that would not disturb his magical bond to the family, so technically no. I don’t ‘own’ a house elf.”

“I see”, Dawlish chuckled. “It’s still kept a bit under wraps for now. But in every household that has elves all hell broke loose, yesterday.”

“What exactly is the connection between house elves and Malfoy?” Ron was terribly annoyed by Dawlish’s attitude by now.

“It seems like some Malfoy ancestor made a pact with other pureblood families to prevent their heirs marrying persons of ‘disrespectable blood status’.” He showed his own distance from these terrible ideas by indicating the quotation marks with his fingers. “And they all agreed on that, binding their promise to the bond to their house elves. They wanted to really have an incentive so that no one would deviate from their bigoted idiocy.”

“And?” Ron asked. He was close to hitting Dawlish.

“The house elves are in midst of a bloody rebellion, demanding contracts and fair work conditions and all that, because the Malfoy heir has married a muggleborn witch.”

“But he was disinherited.”

“Apparently, it still counted.”

“Merlin…. So, everyone who owns house elves will be in favour of a separation.”

“But separation doesn’t mean divorce.” Harry still doubted Dawlish’s scheme. “The House elves would still be on strike.”

“Once the effect of the amortentia vanishes, your friend will want a divorce.”

“How long?” Ron wanted to know. That was the important question, wasn’t it? How long until Hermione was normal again? How long until everything was as it should be?

“Two years, Professor Slughorn estimated. He said we should ask for two and a half years to be on the safe side.”

Harry shook his head. “A house elf rebellion.”

Suddenly he laughed out loud.

Ron looked at his friend, askance. “Two and a half years, Harry, I don’t think it is that funny. Hermione might be mad at us for two and a half years!”

“Malfoy has started a house elf rebellion.” Harry grinned. “Don’t tell me you think that’s not funny. I wish, Dobby had lived to see this!”

Harry clapped Ron on his back. “You know, the effects of the potion might be dulled much sooner. We might get a double wedding after all.”

Ron smiled wildly. “We’ll get our Hermione back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should stress again, that I don't hate Ron, and I hope you don't hate him after this chapter.  
> People will believe lies either because they fear they might be true or they will believe lies because they want them to be true..... Harry and Ron very much want this to be true.


	66. A phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger-Malfoys leave Nott villa and drive home and Draco receives a phone call.

They listened to Winnie Pooh on the way back after all, simply because it would certainly put Robert to sleep. Draco checked in the rear mirror and saw Colin smiling at the peaceful face of his little brother. Robert had run around, making the most of the big park, and had played tagging, his favourite game, with the elves. Draco suspected that he was the only one who had thoroughly enjoyed the visit. Rina had barely contained her boredom, Lizzie and Meg had at one point fought with the Nott twins over their card game, and Colin’s detour in the Nott library had been a disappointment. No books on house elves and no books in another language.

“I wish elves would not abhor ‘Customs and Conventions of the Common house elves’ so much,” Colin said. “Every elf at Hogwarts makes a face, and Piddy today pretended he had to vomit.”

“It’s slavery apology, Colin, of course, they hate it.” Hermione remarked.

“Yes, but how am I ever going to learn anything when they refuse to have a look at this particular copy. I mean it could be a secret elf language and they could actually help me instead of just giving me general encouragement how they think my research is great and then telling me nothing.”

He scoffed. “Piddy told me today ‘You ask’. That’s such a fat help.”

“Well, maybe they know, it’s just the same rubbish in another language.” Draco chimed in.

“I’m sure it is not.” Colin protested.

“Most elves don’t get a proper education. Any language they know is self-learnt. Many might not know a foreign language.” Astoria told Colin.

“It’s not French or Latin, is it?” Draco asked.

“Dad!” Colin shouted, in a rare bout of puberty impatience. “I would have recognized any Romance language, even if I had no private tutor in Latin like you had. You and mum gave us enough lessons, thank you very much.”

“Latin is very useful.” Draco defended all the hours he had drilled them with Latin grammar.

“I didn’t say it isn’t. All I’m saying is that I would have come to you if there was a remote chance this was a Romance language.”

“Might I have a look,” Ellie asked. “I’ve done a little bit of Russian and I might recognize if it’s a Slavic language.

She shrugged and laughed. “It would mean that some good could come out of this disastrous visit.”

“You think the visit was a disaster?” Astoria asked. “But you said something about ‘relationship goals’.”

“Tori, you do not think I meant your Marie Antoinette of a sister and her amiable recluse of a husband?”

“Thank Merlin! I was so puzzled about your remark. Yes, it was an absolute disaster.”

Hermione and Draco laughed at Astoria’s relief, and tension that had hardly been feasible dissolved. Draco had not really expected to easily reconnect with Theo who had been a friend when they were children, but he had expected at least some common courtesy, instead of meaningless socialite prattle from Daphne’s side and heavy silences from Theo’s, occasionally interrupted by nervous and much too jovial talk about housemates who had never even tried to contact Draco.

“Daphne thought that talking about squibs and muggle inferiority would be appropriate small talk for the company. Theodore XVI and Daphne Antoinott”. He knew he was snarky and Hermione’s eyes told him so, but he shrugged.

“To be fair, Ms. Nott probably was at a loss, once she had discussed the contents of every pureblood babies’ nappies. It’s so difficult to come up with a more interesting topic after that.” Rina stated.

They all laughed.

Draco changed lines and when he looked shortly back, he grinned at Rina and he saw that Ellie bent over and gave Astoria a kiss.

“Hermione and Draco showed her though, didn’t they? I think your sister really tried, she just had no idea what to talk about in such unusual company. I know you won’t chide me, that I like your lawyer and her family much more, even if they cannot hide their intellectual snobbery. Makes me contemplate adoption.”

“Adoption?” Astoria’s voice rose a pitch, if in horror or excitement, Draco could not have told.

“Our children are not available,” Draco joked. “And you saw for yourself, no respect for their elders and swots all around.”

Ellie chuckled. “I like inquisitive minds, now, will you show me that book, Colin?”

“Who was Marie Antoinette?” Meg asked.

“A queen of France, who thought that poor people who had no bread should eat cake, because she had no idea about how it was to be poor.” Astoria answered her.

“Look who has learned about history.” Ellie’s voice held a hint of pride. “What a pity that the joke about ‘Daphne Antoinott’ only plays to such a small audience.” Ellie was a woman after Draco’s heart. Who cared about having a big audience for a joke if the right people were amused.

Draco could hear Colin rummaging in his bag for his book, and then Ellie leafed through the pages. “No Slavic language, sorry, Colin. You might try the oral traditions of the elves, if they don’t write much. Oral traditions are very tricky, because they are easily adapted to explain the present, but it might be worth a try.”

Hermione turned around to look at her son. “Luna is your best option, Colin. You can ask her at Penny’s party. And after that we’ll go to the British Library, I promise.”

“How did the family tree research go, Rina?” she asked Rina. Draco grimaced and shook his head.

“Lysistrata Malfoy had four children, but believe it or not, all dead ends after three generations, and Euphemia Malfoy was not the mother of the two children she officially had with the Theodore Nott of the 18th century. Theodore was actually Theodora and seduced some unsuspecting muggle to sire her children.”

“Juicy,” Hermione raised her eyebrows “and yet such a pity.”

“Heard anything from Weaselette, yet?” Draco asked.

Hermione turned around again and looked out of the front window.

“No. The Black and Weasley end is really long ago. It might take her some time.”

“Well, that’s just my luck.” Draco sighed. “At the end of the day I can probably decide to whom I want to grovel, to Potter, to Arthur Weasley or to Geoffrey Sloane. And it says something that Potter would probably be the least painful.”

He risked a glance at his wife and could see Hermione scrunching her face as if she had tasted something bad, but she did not contradict his assessment. The faintest hint of bitterness was in his own mouth. He would curse his father if he were not beyond any curses. Hermione laid her hand on his arm and pressed shortly.

“We could try France”, she suggested. “I mean, Ellie is a historian, she could help us find your French ancestors. After all, she has just decided to adopt us.”

Ellie laughed. “I was talking about adoption in general.”

“So, children, it is France for the next summer holidays.” Draco called to the back of the van.

***

They had just dropped off Astoria and Ellie near their flat when Draco’s phone chimed.

“Who could that be?”

“Probably that annoying woman again.” Draco grumbled. “She calls every week and is over me all the time. I swear if she reorders the menu for her friend’s wedding again, I’m going to …..”

He looked at the display that was visible because his phone sat on the small shelf beside the driver’s seat. “Number’s not familiar.”

“Draco, if you take it, just put the call on speakers. You are driving.”

“Children you know the drill, everyone’s quiet for a moment.”

Draco pressed the buttons on his phone.

“Yes…”

There was some static on the line. “Is this Mr Miller from Fortescue and Miller?” Draco would have recognized this voice everywhere.

He gripped the wheel of the car as if he wanted to shred it. Hermione gave a short shout of surprise.

“Indeed, madame” His voice sounded raspy in his ears. “How can I help you?”

“I apologize for calling you although I’ve never been introduced to you, Mr Miller. I am an old woman and I am not sure if I handle this thing correctly.”

“No need to apologize, madame, I can hear you just fine. I hope you can hear me as well.”

“Loud and clear.” Draco felt his heart clench.

“Love, I think you should pull over. Do not take this call while driving.” Hermione whispered. Her hand stole again to his arm.

Draco felt like he was in a daze. He nodded, put the blinker on, turned left and stopped the car switching on the emergency lights.

“Your voice very much reminds me of someone I knew Mr Miller.”

“Voices barely change, I’ve heard. Yours reminds me as well of someone I knew, Madame.” Draco fought to keep his composure.

“What a coincidence. I had the pleasure of getting one of your cakes as a present and I just wanted to tell you, Mr Miller, how much I liked the chocolate-lemon cake and to take the opportunity to ask how you are.”

Draco drew a ragged breath. His hands were shaking. He reached out and took Hermione’s hand and pressed it in the attempt to anchor himself.

“If you happen to have a little bit of time at your hand, Madame, I can tell you how I am. I hope you would do me the honour of telling me how you fare as well.”

“Gladly. We might have mutual acquaintances, one never knows.”

One of the children asked what kind of strange customer would ask about his personal life. Draco barely registered, that Rina shut them all up with a whispered ‘that’s the lady who sent the books to Hogwarts’. Winnie Pooh was singing ‘tiddelypom’, but Hermione switched off the player.

He wondered how his mother had managed to get a connection via phone. She must have disabled about every muggle device repelling charm at the manor and somehow managed to get a phone and activate it. It had taken Theo three years to manage the cleaning of Nott villa.

Draco picked up the phone and muted the speakers. Then he told her about Fortescue and Miller, about his ‘clever lawyer wife’ and the children, all the while concentrating on not giving names, fearing that a false word might trigger the curse and cut the connection.

“My youngest adheres to a strict ‘one word policy’. He should be talking sentences by now, but he has far too much fun with vexing us with single words. I suspect he understands far more than he lets on.”

“I know of a boy who was like that.” Suddenly, Draco remembered that his mother had once told him, that his parents had almost despaired of him talking, until he had suddenly begun to talk in full sentences.

“Tell me about yourself, madame.”

“My husband died last November. I am a widowed old lady, but I get more visitors now, when I got the last two decades.”

“That is good to hear.” She probably meant Pansy, Luna and Astoria. “I bet there are more people who would visit you, if they had the chance.”

“I think someone came to my husband’s funeral which was just outside our grounds, am I correct?”

That was tricky to answer. “If someone had been there, he would have tried to be inconspicuous, staying apart perhaps, a hat and sunglasses.”

Hermione pressed his hand again. He could see tears creeping down her cheeks.

“Someone like that was there.”

“I am sure, he came for your sake, not necessarily for your husband’s sake.”

“I guessed as much. It was the last day, I could leave my house. It is a difficult situation.”

“So, I gather.”

“He had several strokes. In the end he could not talk. It was an ordeal. So many things to regret, and no chance to revoke anything.”

Draco felt as if a cage closed around his heart. “Do you know what he would have said?”

“I can’t be certain. I hoped until his last breath that he would revoke some orders, that he would unsay some of the things he said. I think that he was struggling to do this, that in the end he understood that he had done nothing but add to the misery in the world. But it was not to be. I don’t know yet, if I’ll ever be able to forgive him. But you should know that he tried.”

Draco pressed his lips together and tried to hold back his tears. He could not give in, not yet.

“Madame, this is very sad, and I feel for you.” He pressed Hermione’s hand so hard that it probably hurt. He didn’t think he would ever forgive his father. “How did you manage to call me?”

“The head auror gave me this little device and I worked it out. There was an instruction. I had to do some adjustments to my home as well. I fear though, that elctrity or however it is called will not last much longer. This thing has addressed me and informed me that it will switch off.”

“The head auror?” Draco nearly dropped the phone.

“Harry?”, Hermione whispered.

“The problem with the electricity can be managed, Madame.” He hoped that her phone would not die in exactly this moment. “One of your guests will bring you a device that can solve that.”

“That is wonderful. I would like to chat again, Mr Miller.”

“Anytime you want, madame, anytime.”

The call was disconnected. He let his hand fall on his lap. The tears came after all.

“Love,” Hermione picked the phone and laid it between them. “Let’s swap. I know, you hate when I drive the van, but I don’t think you should drive just now.”

Draco nodded, his vision blurry. Hermione unfastened her belt and rounded the van. Draco switched over to her seat. Hermione knelt on the driver’s seat and looked at him.

“Oh love”. Her voice was a comfort to him. She embraced him and he buried his face in her neck. His own muffled sob sounded strange in his ear. He vaguely noted that the children were uncharacteristically quiet.

Hermione’s smell grounded him, and after a while he was able to disentangle himself from her. She gave him a short kiss, sat on the driver’s seat, and belted herself in.

“Your mother must have worked herself ragged disabling all the anti-muggle wards at the Manor. We will ask Astoria to bring a power bank to her at the earliest opportunity. She can show her how she can charge her phone. And show her the spell how she can handle the power bank?”

Electricity and magic did not work well together, but for some reason, power banks were an exception.

Draco’s thoughts were still whirling. After almost twenty years he had heard his mother’s voice.

“Potter”. Somehow it was easier to think about why the head auror had given a phone to his mother than dwell on what he had learned about his father’s stroke, his death, and his inability to revoke the curse. “Why? Why would he give her a phone? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Hermione shook her head. “This might be him just doing us a favour. It might be that he thinks he is repaying a debt long overdue, or maybe he wants to be able to call in a favour, just in case.”

She drove silently for a while. “Pansy has been on edge for a while now. Fidgeting. The stunt Neville and she pulled last week is just not like them. I think, we can be sure, that there is trouble ahead. If Harry is involved the stakes must be high.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably all think that I am a terrible tease with Colin practically waving the notes in front of Draco's nose.... There is a reason though.  
> And you might get emotional about this chapter. I did.


	67. Separated (April 11, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a pleasant and a very unpleasant surprise, when she hears about the effects of the registration of her marriage.

Hermione wondered how long it could take to buy bread. She had long sipped the tea Draco had made her and she had gotten up, when she finally felt a little better. She probably should see a doctor. Or maybe she could make a quick visit to her parents. Sure, they were dentists, but they had basic teaching as doctors.

She smiled remembering their visit last week. Draco had been right to insist on flowers. Her mum, or rather Monica, had been delighted. It felt strange to call her parents Monica and Wendell, but the memory of their real names was gone for good. Her mother, ever the pragmatic, had accepted that there were parts of her memories she would never recover. At least they did remember bits and pieces of Hermione’s childhood and she was thankful for that.

It was not very surprising maybe, that they were deeply sceptical of the magical world. Their one brush with Voldemort had deeply unsettled them. Torn between being angry at her for obliviating her and the relief, that they were unable to provide the knowledge the dark wizards wanted, the years after Voldemort’s death had mellowed their frustration about Hermione’s reckless attempt to save them for the price of their memories. They were still angry that no other wizard or witch had tried to save them, only Snape. Somehow their mistrust against wizards did not extend to Draco, if it was because they had identified him as the person who had been in an understanding with their saviour Snape or because he was not able to do magic any longer, Hermione did not know. Their opinion on the trial was set, and her father had asked her multiple times if she really had been friends with that Harry Potter guy, and her mother had shaken her head at the ginger boy who really had no idea how to behave in a courtroom.

They had only brushed the subject of Draco’s family very shortly. Hermione’s father had patted Draco on the shoulder and had told him, that they were happy to have gained a daughter and a son-in-law within the time of a few months. Hermione knew that some memories would never be regained, but she was glad, that her parents still had her back. She felt like it was much more than she deserved.

She wondered if she should look for Draco. Maybe the bakery was closed today, and he had gone to search for another rather than return to her flat. She decided on waiting just a little bit longer when a new wave of nausea hit her. She went into the kitchen and took some crackers and nibbled on them. Strangely enough that seemed to calm her upset stomach and the queasiness retreated.

She quickly dressed, with jeans and a shirt and smiled to herself, wondering how long she would stay dressed once Draco had returned. When the doorbell rang, she went to open, thinking that Draco had just forgotten his key.

“I thought you had lost your way,” she said when she opened the door, but it was Luna, who stood at the door.

Luna grinned at her. “Hermione, you are a sight, so many limpiepinkies.”

Hermione smiled in return. “Luna, I didn’t expect you before tomorrow.”

“Haven’t you seen the prophet?” Luna entered. “I mean, they are tiptoeing around the truth as always, but you’ll never believe what happened after the minister registered your marriage.”

“He did?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, the day before yesterday.” Luna chuckled. “You know I have heard about collateral damage, but I think this is a case of collateral benefit - from a certain perspective.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at Luna. She was sure, it would make sense once Luna could be bothered to explain. In her experience, Luna’s ramblings fell into place if you took the trouble to follow her on the meandering paths of her thoughts. It had taken her some time to accept that Luna in her own way was exceptionally smart.

Luna opened her tiny purse, and took out a huge stack of letters, that had only fit in there because she had learned the knack of Hermione’s undetectable extension charm.

“The House elves are in rebellion and claim fair wages and working conditions everywhere in the country, and look how many of them want Hermione Granger, ehem, Granger-Malfoy as their legal representation.”

Luna dumped the stack of letters in Hermione’s arms and stretched her own arm to reach deeper into her purse. “There are more.”

Hermione’s queasiness was washed away in her excitement when she saw the sheer amount of letters. “I’m still not sure I get you Luna. Why do they rebel now, and what is the connection to Draco’s and my marriage?” She would get the missing piece of the puzzle out of Luna’s head eventually.

Luna laughed. “The prophet was very vague, but if I understood them correctly, one of Draco’s ancestors made a pact with other rich pureblood families. They wanted to ensure that the heirs would never marry half-bloods or Merlin forbid muggleborns. And they connected their pact to the magic that connects the elves to their families.”

Hermione’s thoughts reeled. “So, any family whose heir stepped out of the line would lose their elves. That’s quite an incentive to go for the typically arranged marriage.”

“Not just any family, all of them! Isn’t this the sweetest revenge ever for poor Dobby? And a punishment for the disdain half of them showed for little Prudy?”

Hermione laughed. “I never knew you could be so vindictive, Luna.”

“It could only be reversed, if Draco would divorce you, of course, but since he already accepted disinheritance on your behalf, I doubt that some rich families losing house elves would faze him, eh?”

Luna looked past Hermione. “Where is he anyway? Where have you hidden him?”

Hermione’s heart lifted, that Luna seemed to be so accepting and silently thanked the non-existent limpiepinkies for getting Luna on her side.

“He apparently got lost on his way to buy bread. I’ll tell him to hurry.” She waved her wand, produced her otter, and sent him after Draco.

“That might not work,” Luna tapped her lips with her own wand. “Does the _patronus_ find him? I mean, there is his _scutum_.”

“Hmm,” Hermione mused. She hadn’t thought about that. “We’ll see.” Draco and she had been glued to each other for three weeks, and if she was honest, she was not tired of it. She could always buy a mobile. Draco had one and it had been returned to him like all his other stuff.

The stack of letters Luna had brought meant a lot of work was to be done. She could barely believe her luck. She suspected, that Prudy had had a hand in all the house elves wanting her as their lawyer.

She invited Luna to sit beside her and they studied the letters. She chuckled. Fawley, Nott, Greengrass, Parkinson, they all had rebels in their houses. Only, the Malfoy elves were conspicuously absent. Apparently, the elves still needed some connection to their families, and they mostly just wanted to stay with their families, but with a working contract. She would have to work out something that allowed a fraction of the connection to the families to remain, just like she had done in Kreacher’s case.

She discussed possible options with Luna, but was a bit distracted because Draco still had not returned. When she had eaten the last of the crackers, she finally decided that she was irritated enough that she would search for Draco. Luna wanted to help but insisted that Hermione drank before they left the flat. She had an odd look about her, when she said that, as if Hermione herself should have thought about drinking a glass of water. Probably the limpiepinkies needed water in addition to love to exist and be in symbiosis with her.

She was chuckling inwardly at her own musings, when she entered the street, Luna at her heels, and ran directly into Dawlish, the auror who had been Draco’s escort at the trial.

Hermione’s heartbeat quickened up pace so fast, that she felt she was about to swoon. Despite the muggle environment she drew her wand within seconds and gripped it so hard that her knuckles became white. Suddenly, Draco’s dawdling was not funny at all.

“What is it?”, she asked, fighting another bout of nausea.

Harry and Ron turned up behind Dawlish.

“Where’s Draco? What have you done to him?” Side by side with the nausea was a ball of anger in her guts, that clouded her vision.

Harry raised both his hands, showing her that he did not hold a wand.

“Hermione, please, listen. Nothing has happened to Malfoy.” His green eyes were soft and kind like the Harry she thought she had known. Ron behind him was fidgeting. “There is something you have to know though.”

Hermione lowered her wand just a tiny fraction. Harry came closer, approaching her as if she were a skittish hippogriff, still holding up his hands. Ron copied him.

“You have not been yourself, Hermione, and auror Smith found out why. Ron and I want to help you. We’re going to help you get through this.”

Hermione scoffed and raised her wand again. “I am very much myself, thank you, and I ask you again. Where’s Draco? And what have you done?”

“Auror Potter and Auror Weasley haven’t done anything to him,” Dawlish drawled. “He put up a fight, but it was all Smith and me. As long as he adheres to the contact ban that the wizengamot pronounced this morning nothing will happen to him.”

“Contact ban?” Hermione felt dread settle on her as if she had been doused with ice water.

“He has been feeding you Amortentia, Hermione, that is why you acted so weirdly. You have to be separated from him.” Ron’s voice held a hint of triumph and vindictiveness that flared Hermione’s anger.

She let out a loud laugh, deliberately putting disdain into it. “Are you out of your mind? He can’t brew potions. Why is it so bloody difficult to understand how a _scutum_ works for you morons?”

“Slughorn analysed the remains we found in the cauldron he hid just outside his flat. It was a variant that can be brewed without wandwork, difficult but not impossible.”

“Slughorn?” Hermione was seething. “Slughorn? Well, congratulations, Ron. I wouldn’t have thought that you would steep so low as to plant false evidence. That is directly against your auror oath.”

“Smith found the cauldron and the vials,” Dawlish put in.

“That someone else put there. Certainly not Draco.” Hermione cut him short. She narrowed her eyes at the amassed stupidity in front of her. How they were blinded by hate and dislike.

“Draco’s flat was searched multiple times and this cauldron was somehow overlooked? Nobody believed he brewed the Phoenix Potion the muggle way, but when it is some variant of Amortentia nobody ever heard of, he suddenly can do it? And how would he even have fed the potion to me? Even imbeciles like you must admit, that this practically yells framing.” She was tempted to hex them into oblivion.

“Harry,” Luna’s voice was timid, and she sounded shaken by their loud quarrel. “You must be mistaken. Amortentia cannot be involved. Limpiepinkies are only attracted when it is true love.”

“Limpiepinkies, Luna?” Ron’s face became red. “What kind of nonsense is that! Malfoy drugged Hermione. Probably with the help of that elf. He used our Hermione to wriggle out of a just sentence.”

Hermione laid her hand on Luna’s arm. “No need to get all agitated.”

She inhaled slowly and stretched out her hand. “Just give it to me, Dawlish”.

“What?”

She rolled her eyes. “The antidote. I’ll swallow it, you will confirm I swallowed it and then we can put this nonsense behind us. Because I am quite certain, that I’ll still love Draco after downing the antidote.”

Harry and Ron looked at her with pity in their eyes, which got Hermione all riled up. A false smile was planted on Dawlish’s face.

His deep voice rumbled. “There is no antidote for this version of Amortentia, which is why the contact ban was pronounced. It is to be effective forthwith until you are no longer affected by the potion. The auror department will ensure that Mr Malfoy will not come within 50 feet of you.”

She had difficulty processing that. The ball of anger in her grew, but the nausea also raised its head again. She blinked several times, desperately wishing that she would wake from this nightmare. Ron approached her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

She turned away, violently slapping his arm away. Tears sprang to her eyes and she was unable to hold them at bay.

“How long?” she screamed.

“Two and a half years, 900 days to be exact.”

Harry took a step, closing in on her, his eyes locking with hers over the rims of his glasses. He still had that absurd look of pity in his face.

She pushed him hard, yelling inarticulately, spewing insults. She was sure she was making quite a spectacle and a part of her brain tried to tell her, that she only made it worse, that their suspicions would be confirmed by her completely losing control.

She never remembered the next minutes clearly. Somehow Luna must have brought her back to her flat. She could hear her voice, calmly telling her to concentrate on breathing, pressing a moist cloth doused in something that smelled like peppermint to her brows, dapping at her cheeks to wipe away the tears, cleaning her mouth, that tasted as if she had thrown up. Through the veil of her tears, Hermione saw Harry and Ron applying anti apparition wards on her flat. Harry’s glasses were broken, and Ron sported a black eye. Dawlish’s suit was torn and stained.

Luna did some spells over her head, probably something to chase off some of the tiny creatures who feasted on all her negative emotions.

“Harry, Ron, Mr Dawlish.” Hermione barely recognized her own voice.

They looked up, when she stood.

“You will leave my flat.”

Ron and Harry looked at her with that maddening pity in their eyes. Dawlish set his face in a mien of professional distance.

“This very moment,” she hissed, gripping her wand tightly.

And they did. Ron turned when he had reached the flat’s door, but Hermione refused to look at him, crossing her arms.

When they had left, her tears began to flow again.

Luna pulled her into a tight embrace. “Hermione, please, calm down. All this commotion cannot be good for the baby.”

“The baby?” Her tears stopped. “The baby?”

She wanted to tell Luna that she could not be pregnant. That Luna and her uncanny knack for intuition must be wrong. She had cast a contraceptive every time.

And then the sudden insight hit her. She moaned and put her face in her hands. “The _scutum_.”

She could not help herself and barked a short laughter. “The bloody _scutum_. All the contraceptives were for nothing.”

And then she threw up, directly at Luna’s feet and began to cry again, just as the first of many howlers arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might get you emotional as well....  
> Or maybe I should say. This chapter probably will get you emotional.


	68. The Muggle Detective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron meets a muggle detective.

Ron savoured the fact, that people did not know him in the small café where he was to meet E. Jensen. It was such a relief not to be recognised. He wondered if he should do this more often. He only knew E. Jensen from her letters, which were short and to the point, written with some muggle device. The only handwritten part had been her signature, bold and sweeping. In theory, Ron knew that muggles had faster ways to communicate now, but Ms. Jensen had been his only muggle contact for quite a while. He had found her via his father’s cousin, the attorney.

Ron looked at the list, that he had snitched from Harry’s desk, when Harry had discussed his tasks with Teddy Lupin. Teddy had accused Harry of keeping him out of danger, rather heatedly, and Ron had taken the chance to copy the list, when their argument dragged on.

It made him shudder. So many names from wizarding society, old names like Greengrass and Fawley, but others as well, the Sloanes, the Dohertys, the MacFingalls. And some names that must be muggle names. This list was the real danger, Ron was sure. Something was afoot.

A name that was notably missing from this list was the name Malfoy. It was the last piece to the puzzle that had been whirling in Ron’s head ever since Harry had asked him to help him ‘unofficially’. Ron had been happy to help, but now, in hindsight, Harry’s offer left a stale taste in his mouth. Ron thought that Harry could have just told him, that he was to act as a decoy. He wondered if Ginny knew how devious Harry had become.

When a woman with blond hair that reached just to her chin entered the café, Ron dismissed her at first. Her big blue eyes gave her a naïve look, but she purposefully strode to his table.

“Since you’re the only ginger around here, you must be Mr Weasley.”

Ron stood and shook hands. “I usually am the only redhead, unless one of my brothers happens to be close by.”

She took the seat opposite of him. “You do look different than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” Ron wanted to know, but she did not deign to answer that.

Her smile opened her mouth enough to show white teeth, but it did not reach her eyes.

“So, Mr Weasley, you want a report on my progress?”

“I am not sure.” Ron answered truthfully, waving to the service to order tea.

“You are not sure?” Ron was surprised that her big eyes could narrow to such a degree. “What is this supposed to mean?”

She probably thought he wanted to wriggle out of paying. Ron fidgeted with the spoon. “Look, Ms. Jensen, this is not about me trying to avoid due payment.”

She relaxed and the naïve look crept back into her face. Ron suspected that these big blue eyes were an asset in her job. Many people would underestimate her.

“It is just…..” Maybe he could be honest with this stranger, more honest than he could be with Harry or Ginny or any of the others who knew everything about his disastrous love life.

He fiddled with a spoon. “When I contacted you back in November from the States, I was in a rather bad place. I missed England and my friends and family here more than I would admit to myself, and I had realised that my marriage was an absolute disaster.”

“Disastrous marriages are my business,” Ms. Jensen said. “And yet you asked me to look into another marriage than your own.”

“She was my teenage sweetheart.” Ron admitted.

“Ms. Miller?”

Ron nodded. “And every time one of my own marriages ended up in shambles, I kept thinking that everything would be o.k. if she had just stayed with me. If that blasted bastard had not stolen her.”

“How many?”

“Marriages? Three.”

“Did your spouses know? That you ‘ve not been over her.”

“My first wife told me, that she would talk to me again the moment I were over her.” Ron had to laugh. He still remembered Padma, standing in the rain, forgetting to charm an umbrella, and telling him, that she would not be second best to Hermione fucking Granger. “We never talked again, which sort of says it all.”

Ms Jensen studied him. “So, you thought you needed to get your teenage sweetheart back to get your life in order, and that is when you contacted me to look into her marriage.”

Her eyes studied him. “I’ve already guessed that she is not your cousin, Mr Weasley, if that is any comfort. I get this kind of contracts occasionally, parents who are worried about their children’s spouses, brothers fretting for sisters, and cases like yours as well. I’ve known right along that Ms. Miller is not a relative of yours.”

“I am not even that unhappy,” Ron told her. “By now, my feeling that I must be miserable because I was snubbed by her has become sort of a habit.”

“A bad habit,” he added.

She smiled and this time, her smile reached her eyes. “So, you came to the conclusion that you should get over her, like really get over her.”

Ron sighed. “My broken engagement to her has defined me for so long, that I might be over her already without even realising. It didn’t help that his family and mine have been in a feud for generations.”

“I can see how that adds to the mess.”

The waiter brought the tea and the scones, and Ms. Jensen began to tug in heartily. Ron was not far behind. The scones were lovely and tasty.

Ms. Jensen asked him what he did for a living, and he told her that he was into sports.

“Are you a footballer?” she asked. Ron was unsure what to answer. According to Dean football was a popular muggle sport, but if he affirmed football, she might want to learn more.

“Why do you think I do football?” Ron deflected.

“You have money, you are fit, and you have a self-confident way to move, which says that you are well known, famous perhaps in sport circles? I’d say you’re a keeper. You are in your late thirties I’d say, early forties perhaps, considering that your teenage sweetheart has an almost adult daughter. And only keepers play that long. Weasley cannot be your real name though. I wasn’t able to find you on the internet. You have no social media, a sensible decision for someone famous.”

She laughed at his face. Obviously not being found on this internet would be odd or even suspicious perhaps. He nodded feeling sheepish.

“And I have no idea about football, so your probably famous face does nothing to me.”

She winked at him. “I do like gingers though.”

“This is actually a relief. I am quite fed up with being recognised.” He laughed along with her, his heart suddenly lifting.

She wanted to know about his sport and Ron told her some funny stories about teammates that would work in any context and by the time they had finished the tea, Ron had almost forgotten why he had wanted to meet her.

He told her about Richard, something he did not do often. How he thought that he had missed too much of his son’s childhood, and that Harry was probably more of a father to Richard than he himself had been. He confessed, that he had thought he wanted many children once, when he had been with his teenage sweetheart, but had realised, that this was not true.

“I have so many siblings, you know, I always thought this was normal, but I’ve been living on my own for years, I mean in between my marriages, and I like the quiet. I love my brothers, and my sister, but family meetings are almost too much for me. I usually go play outside with the children, and that is nice, but I don’t want them around every day.”

She came from a big family as well. Her mother was Greek, and her father was a Dane and Ron almost choked when she told him that one of her brothers was called Peer. Ron bit his lip. He would not ask how Peer had been conceived.

“And then there are Nicki and me. We have Greek names. My sister is called Berenice and I am Eurydice. Can you believe that?”

“Eurydice”. Ron was tempted to ask her if she was a witch. She couldn’t be though. His father’s cousin would have known.

“I usually go by Ricki. That is how my sister called me, when I was little. You can call me Ricki, if you want.”

“I’m Ronald, Ron for my friends.” He smiled, hoping she would call him Ron.

She was so easy to talk to. He told her so. “I guess you just drink tea and they all look at you and spill out all their secrets.”

He laughed. “Just like I did. Your eyes do it. They look so trusting and naïve, and I bet you play them all.”

Her laughter was uplifting. “I’m not after your secrets, Ron, not unless you pay me. Would you like to pay me for learning things about yourself you don’t even know yourself? It seems to me that you have done that pretty much on your own.”

“Well, I had about 18 years to work it out. Took me long enough.” He shrugged, somehow feeling unburdened. It had helped to talk to Ricky.

“I’ve never been the fastest thinker,” he admitted.

“So, do you even want a report, Ron.” She finally asked.

“Just give me the gist of it. I am a bit curious,” He wasn’t really. He had a feeling that he knew too much already. But she might want to do something for her money, and he had no intention to rob her of her due.

“Well, Duncan Miller can be rather disagreeable if he is put out. I really got on his nerves, I think. He shoved his wife’s picture at me at any opportunity, mentioned his numerous children and finally, he told me in no uncertain terms, that he was happily married, thank you very much, and that his wife and he did not go through hell and back again for him to risk his marriage in a fling with a woman he wasn’t even attracted to.”

She laughed at Ron’s face. “I am lucky, he did not cancel the catering for my friend’s marriage or Marianne would have killed me.”

“That was blunt,” Ron commented. “I am sorry, I didn’t want you to throw yourself at him.”

“Well, you know, testing the marriage usually includes something like that. I had no idea you were of the squirming sort. I was playing the very annoying stupid blonde who doesn’t take no for an answer.” She smiled as if she were amused by his qualms.

She poured herself more tea. “You know, I never let it go too far, just enough to collect some evidence. Private detective is not the most honourable job, and I far prefer to sleuth in other ways. But I have to earn my living. London is expensive.”

Ron felt a bit queasy. He really hadn’t thought through what ‘testing the marriage’ would mean.

“You know, the Millers almost make me believe that a good marriage is not beyond sense and reason,” she mused. “And you know, I think Ms. Miller is lucky. He is the first man I ever met who does not only know about Jane Austen but has read her books, actually read her books. I hope this does not offend you.”

Ron grimaced. “In a way, I have known for ages that they probably fit well. I was just not ready to admit it. I bet he organises his day as much as she does.” He thought about the homework planner Hermione had given them in third year (or was it fourth year) as a present. He knew that Draco Malfoy would not need such a thing. He was frightening well organised.

“Well, this is not how my talk with a client usually goes, but I am glad, that you took the opportunity to gain insight!” She raised her eyebrows and Ron found himself smiling. “My meetings with my clients rarely are so amiable.”

Her blue eyes looked like the sea on a sunny day.

Ron felt a tiny butterfly in his breast. “I enjoyed this as well, and I would very much like to meet for tea whenever you have time.”

Ricky smiled. “Why not?”

“Actually, I do have another proposal for you. Some real sleuthing… Do you do that as well? I mean, would you look into a real scandal?” He hoped that this did not sound creepy to her.

“Well, scandals and divorce sometimes go hand in hand. Do you want me to check your latest ex?”

Ron shook his head. “No need. She’s going for a nasty divorce, but nothing my lawyer can’t handle.”

He grimaced. “And nothing I don’t deserve. I never loved her. Vegas is the worst idea. I can tell you that. And I think you’ve put me off from this kind of investigation for all eternity.”

He straightened out the list he had brought.

“You see, my best friend is an. “ he stopped himself just in time. “ a policeman, and he recently found out that his department is… how to say this, compromised? And he is after a murder case that probably was covered by people very high up.”

“And he needs help from outside. He… “ Ron hesitated. “He doesn’t know that I got hold of this list, but I want to help him, really help him.”

“These are phone numbers….” Ricky’s face became serious. She pointed at one of the muggle names Ron did not know.

“Is this who I think it is?”

“I guess so?” Ron answered.

“Wow,” Ricky said. “This is serious. She shook her head. “The main counsellor of the prime minister, Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I don’t really want you to look into that list, but I want you to look for connections, suspicious deaths of children, possibly under eleven. A real health care scandal….” He was proud that he had found out how to call this in muggle terms.

She took the list. “You know, I hate the current government so much. I’ll do anything to help you to throw dirt on them.”

“Why do you hate them?”

“Because of fucking Brexit. I’ve lived in this country since I was born, but my parents never applied for citizenship. So, I must do that now, and I hate, hate, hate it, that they do this to us. It’s fucking expensive and I have to hand in my old passport, and I can’t leave the country for six months and then I can’t visit my parents in Greece. They’ve already fled the country.”

Ron tried to piece together what she said. He dimly remembered something Harry had told him. “So you don’t have a mu….” He caught himself. “You don’t have a passport, I mean an English passport.” Passport was the right word, wasn’t it? That was what she had said.

“Yes, don’t tell me you are a Brexiteer. We had such a nice chat. I would be sad to cancel you.”

Her tone told Ron that that was something she looked down upon in disdain.

“No, I am not.” He was reasonably sure, that he wasn’t.

He suddenly had an idea. “I might be able to help you with that passport, in addition to paying you for your sleuthing.”

“Oh, I am bloody desperate. I would not mind skirting the usual process.” She winked. “And I’ll get money as well. Talk about a nice combination of duty and fun.”

When Ron finally left the café, he had a spring in his step. He felt confident, that Ricky would be able to find more muggleborns who had died of rare illnesses. He would probably have to breach the statute of secrecy at some time.

He pictured himself introducing Ricky to his siblings with her real name. ‘This is Eurydike’ he would say. And they would not believe that she was a muggle with that name. He smiled.

He stepped into a bookshop and inquired after books by Jane Austen. He would not let himself be outdone by Malfoy in muggle literature, that was for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ideas to this chapter come mostly from a chat with Marydri. E. Jensen was always part of the story, as she was mentioned really early on (if not by name), but some of her background was developed in that chat.  
> The Brexit allusions are all mine and they derive from some of the devastating experiences of some of my friends who live in England.   
> And E. Jensen has her own ideas why Ron Weasley did not show up on her searches.... And she is very, very curious... But that is for another story....


	69. The perks of getting along with the in-laws (April 12, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tries to come to terms with the contact ban.

When he woke, it took Draco a moment to process that he had not woken up at Hermione’s side. He had slept in a tiny booth at a Youth Hostel, and he should have known that the bed was far too narrow for two, but sleep had bedazzled him for a time. He had not wanted to return to his flat, which he had not been to since that day in September when he got arrested. There was no way to say what the aurors would make of his return there. They might try to plant other evidence. He felt safer in the Youth Hostel, inconspicuously hidden in the midst of muggle tourists excited to see London.

A great emptiness stretched where his heart had been. He wondered if it would have been better if he had gone to Azkaban. The abyss of his misery might have been deeper, but on the other hand he would not have fallen from the summit of utter happiness. Pummelling the pillow and picturing hitting Ron Weasley’s freckled face did not help either. He was filled with a mixture of anger, sorrow and a simple deep-set yearning for Hermione that threatened to tear him to pieces, or at least it felt like that.

The aurors had told him, that he would not be under surveillance, that they would ensure the contact ban from Hermione’s side, that is they had explained that, after he had given up raging at them. Dawlish had explained the conditions to him in a roundabout and condescending way, that had driven Draco nuts and almost made him hit Dawlish. Anti-apparition wards on Hermione’s flat – as if he could apparate to her flat! – and an auror at her side in a suitable distance. All to ensure, that Draco would not get anywhere near her. It was all a terrible waste of money and time he had told them. He had not given amortentia to anybody, especially not Hermione, he had told them. Draco had almost blacked out with hatred when he saw that Potter and the Weasel had arrived and stood by as he was lectured. Two and a half years. 900 days, to be precise.

Well, 899 days as of today. Maybe he could just close his eyes and will the time to pass. But sitting around would only make it more unbearable. Draco decided to do what he had postponed during the honeymoon. Money was a pressing issue and Malcolm had promised to take him in again.

He took the tube and made several detours. At least in that regard, the aurors kept their word. Draco was not being followed. Aurors would probably descend on him like hawks if he were to approach Hermione. He was tempted to try anyway, just to see her from afar, but he did not want to risk his freedom either, or a chance to see her after the commotion had died down. There should be a way to attack this stupid contact ban by disputing it.

Malcolm’s welcome was warm and heartfelt and a balm to Draco’s soul. Draco told him that he was free to work as he wanted and decided not to elaborate on his predicament. He was a free man after all, not on probation either. If they did not manage to get the ban lifted, there wouldn’t be much need for free time either, a very depressing thought. They spoke about a contract and Malcolm gave him a job and graciously allowed for plenty of free time for Draco to participate in further education and get a driving licence. It was far more generous than Draco had any reason to expect.

Malcolm patted him on the shoulder. “Your solicitor seemed a competent woman, I had the feeling, that she might get this sorted out for you.”

Draco gave a short laugh. “She was magnificent.”

Malcolm smiled. “You might want to move a bit closer to work. Friend of mine has a small flat two streets from here. It’s not much, but you’ll save time if you don’t have to commute.”

“You’re friendlier than my own father,” Draco blurted out.

Malcolm winked. “I just want you to experiment on recipes. The chocolate-lemon-cake sells like hotcakes.”

After he had agreed to start work on the next Monday, he went into the city and bought two Irish Claddagh rings, in an act of defiance that further depleted his meagre funds. The jeweller looked strangely at Draco when he commissioned an engraving on both rings.

“You don’t know the exact ring size of your wife but want me to do an engraving? What if the ring’s too big?”

“Never mind about that,” Draco said. Hermione could always shrink the ring magically. They promised to do it immediately and Draco aimlessly wandered through the streets, entering bookshops. Two Jane Austen paperbacks – ‘Persuasion’ and ‘Sense and Sensibility’ – from a rummage table were in his bag, when he picked up the rings three hours later.

He had wanted to slip the ring on his finger immediately but had stopped himself when he had seen the jeweller making a funny face. Draco took of his family ring and contemplated pawning it just to spite his father, but then he let it slip into his pocket and replaced it with his new wedding band. He had survived Voldemort, he would survive this. He had not gone through hell and a trial to lose her now.

It was almost teatime when he reached Mayweed Grove and his parents-in-law, in the hope that the aurors would not be too interested in them. Monica pulled him into the house as if she feared that he would be seen.

“Draco,” she said. “We were so worried, where have you been? Hermione only told us bits and pieces. She’s been here earlier with one of those aurors. She is beside herself. I barely understood what she was saying.”

“I am sorry, I should have called, but I still haven’t processed it all. I’m not even sure, if I can visit you.”

“As long as you and Hermione are not here at the same time, that should be possible, if I understood Hermione correctly. She was talking in riddles, with that auror lurking around.”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco was relieved. He would be thankful for small mercies.

Draco gave them the ring, he had purchased. “Can you give this to Hermione the next time she is here?”

He flushed. “We talked about rings, but somehow we didn’t manage to purchase them during our honeymoon, but this is what we agreed on.”

“Hermione bought a mobile,” Wendell said. He gave a shred of paper to Draco. Draco grabbed it and typed the number into the contacts on his own mobile. He filed her under Elizabeth Bennet, just in case an auror would want to look at his phone. He sighed in relief and closed his fist around the paper to remind himself that they could communicate. He praised all the expertise in muggle technology he had earned after the Battle of Hogwarts. They still would have to work out how. Aurors might be too stupid to suspect Muggle technology, but Draco would not count on it that they would not realise if he actually spoke with Hermione over the phone.

“There is also the landline at her flat. We could call her now. You would have to stay silent just in case.”

Draco could have hugged his mother-in-law. He felt his eyes prickling.

Monica did as promised, and when she held the receiver in her hand, she pressed the button for the speakers, so that they could all listen in.

When Hermione picked up the line, her voice cut deep into Draco’s heart. He balled his hands to fists and pressed them to his lips. He barely heard Monica ask if Hermione could talk openly. Apparently, she could not, or was not certain.

“Did you give my number to cousin John?” she asked.

“Yes, fancy that, he is actually here.” Monica affirmed.

“That is a relief. Tell him, not to call me though,” Hermione cautioned. “He’d better text me and I’ll call when I’m able.” Her voice sounded so strained.

“Luna and I have been fighting off howlers all day. Believe it or not, I forgot to tell you this morning, I was so beside myself… My marriage resulted in a house elf rebellion.”

“House elf rebellion?” Monica was clearly at a loss.

Draco tried to wrap his brain around Hermione’s explanation. Wendell looked at him as if he wanted to say that Draco should have known about this house elf pact. Draco raised his hands in a gesture of utter befuddlement. He had an inkling what his ancestor Sammael had wanted to do but his father had never told him about it.

“Someone, probably Prudy, directed all the elves to me as their legal representation. I am drowning in requests. At least I won’t be starving.”

Draco hoped that Prudy would not be in trouble over this.

“You’re our daughter. You won’t starve on our watch anyway,” Monica told her.

“I’ll try to contest the ban, but it will be difficult. It seems everyone and their mother have a vested interest in getting Draco and me separated. There are the people who think I should not be with him, because they think he is a criminal, then there are the people who think he should not be with me, because I’m supposedly a disgrace, and now you have all the families who are on the verge of losing their elves. And then there are Harry and Ron who think I was drugged and that I am hysterical.”

Monica grumbled about ‘crooked wizarding law’ and ‘corrupt police’. “Couldn’t you just live outside of their world?”

“No, as a witch I’m subject to wizarding law, and they can enforce it, or they snap my wand.”

Draco shook his head vehemently.

“And I still want to make a difference. They will not defeat me so easily.” Draco did not know how she did it, his fierce fighter of a witch. But she would not give in and neither would he.

“Were you able to get an appointment with Doctor Jameson after you left?” Wendell asked. So, Hermione was still ill. Draco worried.

“Yes, she squeezed me in for your sake. She sends her regards.”

“And?” Monica asked. For a long minute there was silence on the other side of the line.

“Luna had it right. I am….” Hermione made some funny sounds that sounded almost as if she was laughing and sobbing at the same time. “Doctor Jameson made an ultrasound and there is already a heartbeat, a tiny fluttering heartbeat.”

Draco felt as if he had been hit by a huge brick. His mouth opened. “But…”

Wendell gestured at him to stay silent, and Draco had difficulty to keep his head from swimming. How was that possible. Contraceptive charms did not fail. He barely heard Hermione explain how his _scutum_ must be responsible.

A baby, Hermione was pregnant. They were going to have a baby. His mind reeled. He didn’t know if he was happy or desperate. He just knew that he wanted to be with Hermione. His wife. His pregnant wife.

Hermione began to bawl in earnest. And the sound tore, tore at his heart. He could hear Luna Lovegood in the background in Hermione’s flat trying to console Hermione, telling her, that she would help. Monica told her over the phone that they would be there for the baby. That she could count on the grandparents.

Before long, he cried as well, and the sound of their sobs blended, while Monica pressed his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. You want them to be together again....   
> You have to be patient.... At least you all know, that they will be together again.
> 
> Guesses who planted the cauldron? Not that I'm going to answer that question.


	70. Work contract with a former house elf (April 15, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaise wants to free his house elf. He has ulterior motives though.  
> He learns quite shocking news, when he searches competent advice.

Blaise put on his nicest smile, when he rang the doorbell at Hermione Granger’s office, no Hermione Granger-Malfoy’s office. He ignored the man who was obviously an auror and his suspicious eyes. He wondered why he was here, maybe to protect Granger.

He was not entirely sure, if Granger would welcome him, but she might be inclined to admit a friend of Draco’s. And he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for his visit. He wanted to free his elf, after all. Not that Tatki was very obstinate, since the Zabinis had not been included in the house elf pact, but Blaise had persuaded the family elf, that getting job contracts was just the thing right now and that all the elves did it. Freeing his elf was a small price to pay for getting to know who the intriguing blond witch at the trial was. He had never understood anyway why wizards who could do anything with magic would even need elves. He assumed laziness and a tendency to lord themselves over other beings was to blame.

Granger looked slightly dishevelled and pale. Her eyes had a red hue, as if she hadn’t slept that well. She didn’t look exactly like a happy newlywed. Her wand was at the ready, but she did not point it at him. Her arms were crossed, and Blaise saw a silver ring on her left hand that looked like it was a muggle design. Irish?

“Zabini?”

Her face gave nothing away, her eyes cautious, at least until she saw Tatki at his side.

“Hello, Granger, this is Tatki, he is the elf bonded to our family and we want help with designing a contract for a free elf. I assume, that you do help with contracts for elves?”

Her eyes widened and she stepped aside to let them in.

“Hello Tatki,” she reached out to shake hands. Tatki took her hand as if he were not sure if she meant it. “I’m Hermione Granger-Malfoy …. And, hello Zabini, I guess.”

“I …. “ she hesitated. “It’s usually the elves who contact me. You are the first wizard I’ve seen….”

She smiled somewhat shyly, in a way Blaise had never seen on her in all his school years. “You’re the first elf owner who doesn’t shout at me. Why would you accompany your elf?”

“Well, Tatki and I have decided to keep up with the times and design a contract for a fair and solid work. You see, my family was not part of the house elf pact.”

Tatki nervously stroked his ears. Blaise hoped he would not blurt out that he had to be persuaded.

“I would pay for your trouble, obviously.”

“Care to pay in advance, Zabini?” she asked. “The elves pay me, but I usually give them an extension, because they haven’t yet earned a salary.”

“No trouble,” Blaise smiled at her. “And you know, I’m Draco’s friend. I think you can call me Blaise.”

She blinked. “Draco’s friend. Merlin. You have guts. I mean, there is no harm in telling me, but you might not want to say that out loud, where others can hear you.”

Blaise frowned. “Snakes stick together.”

Hermione gave a laugh that held no mirth. “Tell that to the purebloods who send all the howlers. I’ve barely closed an eye for two days. It has dwindled down, fortunately.” Ah, that was why she looked so tired.

“Merlin, what do they want?”

“They want Draco’s and my marriage dissolved as fast as possible.”

Blaise laughed. “Seriously? Little do they know that this will only succeed in you persisting even more stubbornly than before, am I right?”

This time her smile reached her eyes. “It seems you do know me better than I would have thought.”

She hesitated. “Blaise,” she finally said as if testing his name. “Can I offer you some tea? And we discuss Tatki’s contract over a cup.”

Blaise congratulated himself. It seemed like simple politeness had taken him further than he had hoped.

Hermione gave him a stack of papers, that he studied together with Tatki. Tatki was worried, that Blaise would not manage two weekends without him, but Blaise argued that he was a wizard after all and that he had learned some housekeeping spells from his mother and that he always could eat out.

Hermione’s eyes widened each time, when Blaise argued for a better contract for his elf. Tatki stroked his ears, doubt in his face, but calmed, when Hermione told him, that muggle employees had much better contracts. That worked. Blaise knew he had won her over, when she opened a box of biscuits.

Time to ask for what he was really after.

“Hermione,” he said, as if it had just crossed his mind. “At the trial I sat just behind a blond witch who had a whole bunch of theories. She’s obviously friends with Longbottom. And she was dead right on many things. Do you happen to know her?”

Hermione frowned. “Luna?”

“Yes, that was how Longbottom called her.” Now, she just needed to tell Blaise what her last name was.

“Didn’t you see her when she was a witness?”

“I didn’t follow the whole trial. I admit I just went for the last session.” He had gone there for the drama, and well, it had been worth it.

“Luna Lovegood? DA member? You don’t know her?”

“Ah, Lovegood,” Blaise was satisfied.

“She was part of the resistance against Voldemort in what would have been our seventh year. I am astonished, you don’t know her.” Hermione began to nibble at some of the biscuits.

“My mother and I had taken refuge in Italy and spent the year in hiding.” Blaise admitted. That was usually the moment when people’s face closed off.

But Hermione smiled. “One of the better options for a well-known Slytherin family, I guess. Not join Voldemort, but keep out of the way of possible retaliation or forced recruitment.”

Blaise had not expected that. He let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. “Exactly.”

Hermione helped him set up a contract. Tatki was embarrassed and fidgety, but did his best to act pleased. When Hermione did not look, he shot his now former master angry and hurt looks, but Blaise just shrugged. All was fair in love, war and quidditch after all.

The key turned and Blaise praised his luck. It was Luna herself who entered, a bag in hand.

“Hello Hermione,” she beamed encouragingly. Blaise smiled in return and hoped that his teeth would shine. He had exceptionally nice teeth after all.

Luna hugged Hermione. “Have you eaten enough?”

And then she shook Blaise’s hand. “Zabini, isn’t it?”

“Please call me Blaise.” He winked at her.

“And this is?”

“Tatki, my former house elf, now my employee.”

Her smile deepened while she greeted Tatki. She had the most adorable dimple on her right cheek. “Oh, you’ve decided to let him free on your own? I hope you’ll set a trend.”

This was going swimmingly. Luna’s soft spot for elves Blaise had noted at the trial had been touched and he was already in her good graces.

Luna opened her bag and pulled out papers. “Look here, Hermione,” she said. “I wrote some possible answers to these dreadful howlers and duplicated them. Now we can just choose the appropriate answer.”

“Why would you answer howlers?” Blaise asked.

“Most of these people are terribly misguided or absolute ignorant about basic facts. I think it is our duty to tell them the truth.” Her blue eyes were wide and innocent.

“I’ve written four possible answers.” She produced four neat stacks of paper and set them on the table. “This one informs the sender that they should get rid of the wrackspurts in their house, this one informs them on the fact that elves who are free are not going to die if the contract is set up correctly.”

She pointed her wand at the papers. “Answer three informs them that you are a damn war hero and don’t have to prove you fought against Voldemort and number four is a rebuttal of that amortentia business, just in case… You can combine them, if you want.””

“Amortentia business?”, Blaise asked. “There are people who believe that nonsensical rumour?” He had read about that in the prophet, a few days after the trial, but everybody knew that the prophet was unreliable on good days and spewed rubbish on bad days. There was a reason Blaise was not an avid newspaper reader.

Granger made a small sound of surprise.

“See, Hermione, sensible people see what nonsense this is. I’m quite sure the misunderstanding will be sorted soon.” Luna nodded with satisfaction at Blaise.

“You haven’t heard, I guess.” Granger stood and produced a Prophet and shoved it in his hands.

Blaise read and felt as if his eyebrows should wander all the way up to his hairline.

“Contact ban?”, he finally got out. “They could have just given you an antidote!” Now he did not wonder any more why Draco’s wife looked ill and tired.

“So, you haven’t seen Draco in what? Four days?” He looked at the Prophet’s date.

“And 896 days left.” Granger answered. “Unfortunately, there is a version of amortentia that can be brewed wandless. The recipe is in a 12th century manuscript in the library of the Department of mysteries, and hasn’t been looked at since 1924… There is no way Draco would have known this….” She covered her face with her hands, and Blaise felt a pang of pure pity. Luna sat at Hermione’s side and put her arm around her.

“So, the auror is at your door to prevent Draco from seeing you and you won’t return to Draco this evening after work…. “

Hermione shook her head. “I’m looking at different angles to contest the ban, but I haven’t found a solution yet.”

“Where is Draco then? Do you even know?”

Suddenly her eyes narrowed and there was a suspicion in them. “I am not allowed to know.” He looked at her. He would have bet his last galleon that she knew exactly where Draco was.

Blaise raised his hands. “Just tell me who might know, and I won’t pester you.”

“Parkinson”, Luna informed him. “Neville told me, that she has visited him and that is why she won’t be scheduled to secure the ban from Hermione’s side.”

“In a way, it’s a pity.” Hermione shook her head. “I would prefer Parkinson to that abominable Smith at any given time.”

She sighed. “I can’t believe I said that…. That I would prefer Parkinson.”

“Pansy’s a loyal friend,” Blaise defended his fellow Slytherin.

It was at that moment that Blaise became a witness to one of the howlers. A large owl swept in and dropped one of the purple letters before Luna could stop it.

It was a particularly loud howler, and Blaise’s ears burned at the language of the sender. Hermione did not listen in calm patience. She took aim with her wand and set fire to the howler.

Luna frowned. “People are so inconsiderate. Babies start to hear early on, and they should be ashamed to harass your poor baby with the noise of howlers.”

“Baby?” Blaise asked. “What do you mean baby? Are you pregnant, Gran… I mean, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded. Her eyes had a shimmer to them that probably meant she was close to tears.

“Draco knocked you up on the first try?”

Luna shook her head at him.

“Please don’t tell anyone, Blaise.” Hermione begged.

“On the contrary, Hermione, I think you should tell this to every wizard and witch. Nobody will expect you to dissolve a marriage when you are pregnant. This should give you a respite, at least from the people who still have the semblance of a heart.”

Tatki was moved like elves were wont to when it came to wizarding babies, and when Blaise left, Tatki had promised Hermione his special anti-nausea brew for pregnant witches, Blaise was in possession of Luna’s address and he had promised Hermione that he would visit Draco.

Despite having achieved everything he had wanted, it took Blaise a long time to resume planning his next step of the seduction of Luna Lovegood. He felt himself unusually emotionally involved in Hermione’s and Draco’s situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Marydri. I hope you like the chapter!
> 
> Have some Blaise/Luna!
> 
> Thank you to my avid readers and faithful commenters. I love getting comments!
> 
> I now estimate that the fic will be about 90 chapters.... Writing wise I have reached the end of the mystery. But the last chapters will be difficult to write. Much action.... And I am better at dialogue than at action.


	71. Inconvenient truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna and Blaise make a party for their daughter Penny. Harry has to face some inconvenient truths.

The list was whirring in Harry’s head. Greengrass, Sloane, Fawley…. This was a bloody conspiracy and if the name of one of the muggles was indeed the man who was a close confidant of the muggle prime minister… Dudley had recognised the name immediately.

Dudley’s son Neill had become ill and he was listless and tired, and they still were not closer to finding how the curses had been applied. The poor girl with the easy bruising spell had not become better either. Every time Pansy or he lifted the spell, it would creep back in a matter of days.

Harry had not seen Pansy for several days, but she had told Teddy to run an analysis on the stoppers and there had been goblin silver at the core of the rubber stoppers. Pansy had suggested that the goblin silver could establish a connection to alert someone who held a linked piece engraved with the same magical signature. The revelation had left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. His gut feeling that the goblins eagerness to get hold of old goblin silver was bad news, had been confirmed.

They had refrained from testing the stoppers for the magical signature though. Harry did not want anyone alerted before he did not have a better idea of what the agenda of this close-knit group of conspirators was or before he had worked out a way to test for the magical signature without triggering the alert. Harry had cross referenced the different sources, the list from Fawley’s mobile, the result of Percy’s sleuthing and Teddy’s account of the persons who had visited the memory vault. Even if he just arrested the intersected persons, he would be hard pressed to do it simultaneously. It would need meticulous preparation and a concerted action with people he trusted.

Thus, Harry sat in Luna’s and Blaise’s garden and tried to push the list and everything else out of his head, at least for one bloody afternoon. Ginny sat at his side, his anchor to a world where he could be happy. Her red hair shone in the sunshine. Ron, George and Angelina and their two children of nine and seven were flying, and James and Richard had joined them. His own Lily and Luna’s Penny hat put their heads together and giggled. It was a peaceful day. Harry was tempted to close his eyes and take a nap and forget about his troubles.

Ginny bent over him and kissed him. “I’m joining the flyers.”

Harry just nodded and enjoyed the sun. He had indeed dosed off when he heard someone harrumph. He opened his eyes, lazily blinking in the sun. Blaise had taken a chair and sat beside him. Harry was surprised. He liked Luna’s husband well enough, but Blaise was usually not prone to converse in earnest and his face now sported an uncharacteristically serious mien.

“Harry, there is something I need to ask you.”

“Yes?” Harry sat up. He hoped that it was not another bloody problem.

“You know, I like you guys, you bloody Gryffindors?”

“I sort of guessed, that you can tolerate us.” Harry answered. “You have us over often enough.”

“Luna never talks about it, but she had it real tough in her own house.” Blaise shook his head. “Many years of having no friends, something that would never have happened if she had been sorted into Slytherin. Snakes stick together.”

“I’ve always thought, she is a more of a Puff at heart,” Harry mused.

“And you guys, especially you Harry, just accepted her as she is, wrackspurt spells and all that comes with it.”

“Why do I get the feeling that you are mellowing me to get in a blow?” Harry asked.

“Not a blow, just a warning, maybe. I don’t even know how to call it.” Blaise’s mouth was still set in a straight line.

“You know, I never understood how Luna managed to stay friends with all of you after Draco was framed, especially since, unlike you dim-witted Gryffindor lot, she never believed that Draco had used Amortentia. But she managed.”

“Neville also stayed friends with Hermione as well as Ron and me. Another Puff at heart.” Harry commented, trying to give the conversation a light spin.

Blaise scoffed and shook his head. “You’re deflecting, Harry. Don’t think I haven’t realised.”

Harry took his refuge in silence. He had an inkling what Blaise would have to tell him. It meant that his diversion was working. It also meant that his friends would be disappointed.

“I don’t know what you’re up to Harry, I just know that something big is afoot. You haven’t helped Luna with the hunt for occamy smugglers, and that is not like you. You go out of your way to help Luna usually, as we all do, regardless whether you believe it is worth the effort or not.”

Blaise fidgeted, something that was as unusual as the absence of a smile.

“It means that you have a big case, or maybe several big cases. The bloody lose dementors are probably just one of them.”

Harry moaned. “Don’t remind me of the dementors on this beautiful day.”

Several researchers in the ministry were working on the problem of how to destroy them. There was even talk about making a bargain with the dementors again and reintroduce them to Azkaban. Not something that would happen on Harry’s watch. He’d rather torch the whole island and hope that they would destroy the anchor the dementors had there, somewhere.

“Anyway, we were at the Malfoy’s the other day and … “ Blaise hesitated, his eyes intensely searching Harry’s face as if he wanted to use legilimency.

Blaise waved his hand, abandoning what he wanted to say. “There is nothing afoot against Draco, is there? There was this article in the Prophet that seemed to allude to an observation, if I read it correctly, and Hermione and Draco seem to have had a fight about you, or so I gathered, and I would like to know what you did.”

“A fight about me?”, he asked, as if he had no idea.

Blaise scowled and Harry wondered if he had overdone it.

“You wouldn’t let yourself be deceived by a framing again, would you? You are a good auror after all, most of the time. Pansy claims your hunches are top notch.”

Harry weighed his words. “I can assure you, that I’ve learned that particular lesson. I question every evidence, even if it falls in with my theories.”

And it had been a hard lesson. Harry had never again accepted evidence on face value without double checking. He had never again neglected the fact that aurors could also have ulterior motives. He sometimes wondered if Hermione and he could have reconciled if Smith had not found that damn cauldron.

“I am glad to hear that.” Blaise nodded, his face becoming more open again. There was still a hint of a warning in his voice.

“You know, if you would force Luna to choose, you might not like the outcome.” He didn’t say, how he himself would choose and Harry had no doubt about it. How had he called it? ‘Snakes stick together.’

“My cousin Dudley told me that the muggle police has departments that do internal inspections. I will try to establish that.”

“That bad?” Blaise’s eyes widened. He smiled. “The idea is eighteen years late, though.”

Harry just grimaced in answer. It was after all an unspoken agreement that neither Blaise nor Pansy would force Harry to actively admit his mistake in the case of the amortentia mess.

He was saved from further inconvenient truths by Ron and George, who came over to grab some water. Harry wondered about Ron. The last days had somehow been good to him, he was far more relaxed than he had been at the beginning of the year. Ron waved at Luna who had just stepped out of the house and on the terrace.

But when he saw Neville stepping up behind Luna, Ron became flustered, as if he were ashamed of something or reminded of something. Neville frowned at Ron’s red face.

“Hi Nev,” Ron waved, his smile far too wide. “How is Hogwarts?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes and caught himself before he could shake his head. Ron clearly just didn’t know how to feign nonchalance. Sometimes he wondered how Ron had managed not to blunder extensively in his auror years.

Neville accepted the glass that Blaise pressed in his hand. “Much quieter than in our days. My childhood heroes have been taken down though…. “

“How so?” Blaise asked.

“Wouldn’t you have thought that no mischief students can come up with would escape McGonagall? And that Flitwick was quite observant as well?”

“Not to forget Snape.”

“McGonagall did not notice the DADA meetings when Umbridge was there.” Luna said.

Neville scoffed. “She chose not to notice them, I am certain.”

“But what would you say to the fact that the Gryffindors have done something stupid and dangerous for years and McGonagall didn’t know about it? And neither did Flitwick? And they needed me to tell them?”

“What exactly is surprising about this, Neville?” Blaise asked. “The fact that the Gryffindors did something stupid and dangerous can hardly be it. That McGonagall didn’t know? Or that Gryffindors were **caught** at something stupid and dangerous?”

Neville had to laugh. “You know, it just feels so strange. We had this teacher conference and Flitwick even invited McGonagall and it was just so funny… Knowing something they didn’t. And the look on their faces.”

“What was it, Neville? Don’t leave us in the dark.”

“They didn’t know the reason, why the fiendfyre in the Room of Hidden Things still has not burned out.”

“The room is still on fire? Merlin! How? Fiendfyre is fed by magic. How hasn’t it died by now?” Ron was flabbergasted, having forgotten about his earlier awkwardness around Neville in his surprise. Harry frowned.

“Gryffindors have been feeding the fiendfyre with dark artefacts for years. It’s part of a trial of courage. Can you believe that?” Neville told them.

“I always knew it.” Blaise shook his head. “Gryffindors are bloody insane.”

“That’s what Flitwick said, more or less. To be fair I knew that some Gryffindors are in the habit of filching dark artefacts, because Harry and Pansy tipped me off on that.”

George was cleaning his broomstick far too meticulously for Harry’s liking.

Neville scooped down on him like a hawk. “You don’t happen to know anything about this, George?”

George had a sullen look about him.

“Don’t you worry, the prefects didn’t give you away. This is just me guessing,” he said.

“George!” Ron was flushed again. “I hope it’s at least only the older Gryffindors.”

Neville shook his head. “Not exactly, fourth years, in honour of Harry winning the Triwizard tournament, if you can believe that. It’s part of the house party.”

“Oh Merlin! That would be James and Richard next year,” Ron blurted out.

Harry voiced his surprise. He had been under the impression that Gryffindors who visited Malfoy Manor were older. Sometimes it was bloody inconvenient that Narcissa Malfoy could only talk in riddles. He and Ron both rounded on George.

George threw up his arms. “I solemnly swear that I won’t be giving portkeys to Gryffindors from now on! I wanted to stop, anyway.”

“Satisfied, Professor Longbottom?” He gave Neville a lopsided grin.

Neville crossed his arms and suddenly Harry was reminded how his boys were in awe of him as a teacher. George was as close to looking contrite as Harry had ever seen him.

“Stopping this once it meant your own nephews is just hypocritical, George.”

Harry joined Neville in scowling at George. “That was bloody dangerous, George. I thought it was the adult Gryffindors from seventh year who did this. Still bad enough, but fourth years, really?”

“Where do they nick the dark artefacts anyway?” Ron wanted to know. “Knockturn alley?”

“Malfoy Manor”, Neville said.

Harry was tempted to throttle him. Way to ruin a perfect day.

Blaise barely managed to catch Luna’s glass before it fell to the floor. Ron opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Luna blinked slowly at them with her big blue eyes and took the glass back from Blaise, nodding slightly in thanks.

“There are rogue house elves on the grounds,” she said, as if that would explain her discomfort.

George scoffed. “What do you mean rogue house elves? That’s hardly dangerous.”

“Lucius Malfoy never agreed to give contracts to the house elves after the house elf rebellion and he just browbeat them into obedience using the lingering effect of their bond to the Malfoy family. They’ve gone completely rogue now after his death. Narcissa managed to contain them, so that the house and the alley to the house is clear, but ….” She shuddered.

“You make it sound like they are as dangerous as a herd of enraged centaurs,” George interrupted her.

She focused on him. “That is an accurate comparison, George.” She smiled at him, as if he were a student who had guessed the right answer.

“You speak as from experience, Luna.” Ron commented. “I know Harry has Narcissa Malfoy as an unofficial consultant on dark magic, but whatever do you want there?”

“Narcissa has a vivid interest in magical creatures and I help her pick worthy funding projects.”

Harry saw Blaise holding in his laughter. The bloody Slytherin was back at having fun at their expense. Harry often suspected he had married Luna because it would mean that he would never lack entertainment. Sometimes Harry envied him. He would have liked to laugh instead of feeling desperate or sad.

“You were a prisoner at that house, Luna!”, Ron had difficulty believing Luna. As if he had somehow forgotten that Luna would gladly visit far more disagreeable persons than Narcissa, if it meant she could do something for magical creatures.

“Narcissa hardly drinks tea with me in their dungeon, Ron.” Luna shook her head. “We usually sit on the terrace.” As if Ron had questioned **where** she sat down for tea. Blaise openly grinned at Ron, and Harry could not help himself. He had to smile. Luna did that.

“Why don’t you Weasleys go and fly some more. We only start with tea at about four.” Blaise told them amicably, and indeed both took their broomsticks and left again, leaving Harry.

The doorbell rang, and Blaise and Luna went to open the door. “That will be the Granger children,” Luna remarked.

Harry leaned back again. It looked like Neville had the Gryffindors well in hand. He closed his eyes again. “Where have you left Pansy, Neville?”, he asked.

“Pansy is pissed at you, Harry, and frankly so am I.”

Harry opened his eyes again, preparing himself for another lecture. He looked over the rim of his glasses at Neville.

“Or rather Pansy is not sure, if she should be pissed at you for observing Draco or if she should be pissed at you because you expect her to be pissed. She wants to know if she should bang some doors in your face at the office.”

He gave Harry a piece of paper. “That is the result of your little manoeuvre, Harry.”

Harry looked at the names on the paper. His heart sank. “That is an awfully short list. Why is there a question mark after Baxter’s name?”

“Baxter might have approached Pansy because he wanted to tell her himself how he had made a complete ass of himself instead of leaving that to others.”

“I see. He approached the minister though. I think we can strike that question mark.” Harry sighed. “Maybe some door banging will result in more names.”

“Pansy will have no qualms about that.”

Harry had known this would happen, and still he wished he could will the disappointment in Neville’s face away.

Neville sat at Harry’s side. “If I had not seen the list of the people possibly involved in this, I would punch you, you know that?”

Harry nodded.

“You involved Ron in this, didn’t you?”

Harry looked sharply at Neville. “What makes you say that?”

“I saw his flushed face and his awkwardness, when I entered. Pansy looked out at the department but none of the aurors there was flustered. I guess, listening in to Pansy and me making love might have caused Ron to be flustered.”

Harry was reminded again, why Neville had been such a good auror. Nothing escaped him.

“Observations can be rather awkward in that regard,” he remarked.

“And in case, Draco did not realise, you had him followed by Baxter, you could count on Ron not being too secretive about the observation he does for you. Hence that shady article in the Prophet.”

Harry gave a short nod.

“Do you even have the minister’s permit to do that?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “although ‘diversion’ is not a common explanatory statement on an observation warrant.”

“Wow,” Neville’s face looked strange, as if he were tired, deflated. “I’ve seen the list. I know this is very serious, Harry, but still…. Do you know what sucks the most?”

Harry bit his lip. “Yes, I think I can guess. I knew my friends would be angry and disappointed and I did it anyway. Just on a hunch, a gut feeling that this case might be the most serious threat since Voldemort. When I started this manoeuvre, I did not know yet, how serious it is. And still, I set it in motion, when the opportunity arose.”

“And you still expect your friends to help you.” Neville pressed his lips together. “Are you even sorry?”

“More than I can say.” Harry told him. “I also know that this will not reduce your anger.”

“It does not. It is most infuriating that you also know that we **will** help you, although you put Pansy and me in an impossible situation.” Neville’s face was still closed, his eyes narrowed.

“I learned from Dumbledore.” Harry observed. “He was the best in this.”

“You surpassed Dumbledore, Harry. Dumbledore used his allies, I doubt he ever had friends. You use everybody, including your friends and enemies. And I do not mean this as a compliment.” Neville’s voice was still flat.

“You know that Malfoy’s and my relationship might be more complicated than pure enmity.”

“Not funny, Harry.”

“When we’ve dismantled this conspiracy, you are welcome to take me to a dark alley and take out your frustration on me.”

Neville scoffed. “I’ll let Pansy do that, you ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be two chapters about the party for little Penny.   
> I know Harry is a manipulative ass in my fic. But I guess 20 years as an auror must have some repercussions....


	72. An untimely discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As birthday presents for Luna's daughter are distributed, Harry has an idea and Colin makes a discovery that does not fit into Harry's plan.

Blaise could not help the huge grin on his face when Rina unpacked her bag in the kitchen. The Malfoy children had brought two of Draco’s chocolate lemon cakes. Rina wanted to leave again, but Blaise persuaded her to stay just to have a look at the face of the Weasleys when they would unwittingly eat Draco’s cake. There was a mischievous glint in Rina’s eyes, and they swore all the children to secrecy. Luna shook her head, but Blaise knew she would not give away his small prank, not intentionally at least.

Colin asked after Tatki, their house elf, but he was away visiting family. Colin was disappointed but when Rachel came, they were soon deeply engrossed in conversation. These two always had the most peculiar subjects. This time they talked about spells that were based on Latin words and spells that were based on English words, and if the language of the spell was an indication of when the spell had been invented.

It was nothing Blaise had ever thought about. Colin was arguing that Latin spells should be older because Latin had been the language of the learned well into the 16th century. Rachel countered that new spells could be Latin as well, like the _scutum_ spell. And then they both discussed if Severus Snape had invented the _scutum_ spell or if he had maybe re-invented it or had found it. Luna interfered and argued that while _scutum_ was the standard word in Latin for a shield, nevertheless the effect of the _scutum_ spell had not been described prior to Severus Snape. Meg then asked if the meanings of the words for spells must be connected to the effect of the spell and how that would go together with nonverbal magic and accidental magic.

“Why would you even need a word for a spell. Shouldn’t it be possible to will your magic to do anything you want?” Meg asked.

“I think, it is a question of focus,” Luna mused. “It is just easier with words, just as it is easier with a wand. And I think people often use Latin, because it is seen as a more potent language.” There were moments like these when Blaise understood why his wife had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

“And we all know, wizards and witches are basically very lazy people,” Blaise joked. “So, can you and Rina please get your wands and spells to good use and help me set up the tables? No need to invent new spells for that.”

Penny got very excited, because now was the moment she could unwrap presents. Everyone gathered and they stood or sat just like they wanted, and it was just how Blaise liked it. Lively discussion and banter and his daughters and his wife happy. Luna always insisted that each family could only bring one present, so that Penny wouldn’t be spoiled and get the giftitis, as Luna called it, which basically meant over-excitement because of too many presents.

Penny got something from Weasleys’ wizarding wheezes from Ron and George which came as no surprise and one of Theo Nott’s children’s book from the Potters. Neville had bought a tiny pot with a plant that fit into Penny’s dollhouse. It was a real mimbelus mimbletonia, and Blaise wondered how Neville had managed to grow it so small.

Penny picked up the Malfoy’s present last. Blaise knew why. His younger daughter liked to prolong pleasant anticipation. The present was a small egglike shape with a silvery shine, and Blaise saw with amusement how excited all the Malfoy children were to watch Penny hold it. Penny put the silvery egg in her hands and squealed with delight, when the egg opened at her fingertips and hatched a tiny shimmering blue occamy, feathers and all. The enchanted figurine wriggled around Penny’s fingers, and the light rippled on its feathers as if it were a real occamy. When Penny put it on the table it stopped moving and came to life again when she touched it again.

The children all wanted a go and there was ooing and aaing. But the little occamy only moved in Penny’s hands. George was staring at the figurine as if he wanted to nick it, make a dozen copies, and sell it in his joke shop.

“So, Hermione attuned this to Penny’s magical signature?” Neville asked. “Neat!”

“Mum and I did this together,” Rina answered. “I am glad it worked. It was the first time I managed to copy a magical signature.”

She scowled at George Weasley. “Mr Weasley, you are not going to nick this idea for your joke shop. Or if you do, you are giving us a percentage, or my mum will sue you for theft of intellectual property.”

George raised his hands, as if he wanted to deny his interest, and Blaise chuckled.

The little occamy was in Penny’s hands again and she let it move between her hands. It was fascinating to watch, and Penny was not the only one who was mesmerized.

Luna was beside herself. Blaise could have sworn she barely refrained from clapping her hands. If it had been Hermione’s wish to outshine all the other presents, she had succeeded. Blaise would not rule it out. Hermione did have a vindictive streak. And Blaise suspected that she was not as sanguine about Ron ‘weaseling’ his way into an invitation as she had Luna believe.

“It even has rainbow hues on his tail,” Luna observed. “Rina, when you have finished your NEWTs you should travel with us to India to look at real occamies. They are such a lovely sight in their natural habitat. They live in colonies and Blaise and I saw a group of maybe 300 occamies.”

She beamed at Blaise and Blaise returned her smile. That journey had been worth it if only for Luna’s excitement.

“We had to be very careful, because they make connections between their nests. They use cotton for that. It looked like someone had done an intricate gigantic web of the finest lace and had threaded it between the trees.”

Luna blinked suddenly and her voice trailed off, her mouth opened, and she had that look she had when a thought struck her.

George’s children who did not know Luna that well yet, urged her to carry on, but she did not hear them, lost in thought. Blaise shushed them.

“Penny,” Harry bent down to Penny and spoke in a low voice. “Can I have a very short look at your occamy?”

His eyes shone. “Can someone give me a sheet of paper?” he asked no one in particular.

Ginny elbowed him. “Is this about a case, Harry? Shame on you.” But she produced paper from her bag and held it up for Harry to see.

Penny looked at the head auror, and handed over her figurine, a shadow of a doubt in her face.

Harry smiled absentmindedly, but with genuine warmth. “Thank you, Penny,” he said, his eyes already focused on the figurine.

He put it in his left hand and drew his wand. Blaise could not understand the spells he whispered, but he saw bright yellow threads connecting Harry’s wand to the little occamy. He sincerely hoped that whatever Harry did would not mess up Penny’s present.

Harry drew the threads out and swung them at the paper Ginny held. They sorted themselves in an intricate pattern that looked like a constellation, but none Blaise knew.

The shadow of a smile tugged at the corners of Harry’s mouth, and he gave the little occamy back to Penny. Penny frowned, but her toy did still work the same as before.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Got it out of your system now, Harry?”

Luna blinked and her eyes suddenly found Blaise’s. “Love, could you please remind me that I have to tell Hermione something very important about where we could search for the occamies?”

“Give me a cue, love,” Blaise bade her.

“Lace,” his wife answered.

Blaise nodded. “Lace, got that.” He had no idea what she was talking about.

Tea was uneventful, apart from the fact that the Weasleys praised the tasty cake unaware of its origin, and Blaise gave Rina a clandestine low five, while Lizzie hid her giggle behind her teacup. Neville arched his eyebrow at Blaise, but kept his mouth shut, while Ginny told her brothers with a straight face that this was the cake that had been served at Neville’s and Pansy’s wedding. Blaise loved that about Ginny. She was always up to participate in a harmless prank.

Blaise asked his goddaughter Lizzie and Rina how their visit to the Notts had been.

“It was such a disaster.” Lizzie told him in a whispering voice. “The twins were o.k. I guess, but everything else….”

“Daphne Antoinott.” Rina put in. The Malfoy children all laughed. Blaise did not get the reference, but Harry who had overheard them suppressed a grin. It was probably something muggle. It had the ring of one of Draco’s jokes, witty and just a bit on the mean side.

“The family trees were all dead ends.” Rina confided to Blaise. “Dad tried to be equanimous about it, but we might need to try our luck in France.”

Her eyes flickered to Ginny. Ginny who had listened in, came over.

“Tell you mother, the only thing I found so far at the Burrow was an abandoned cellar, where one of my ancestors has stored his enormous collection of muggle teddy bears behind heavily warded doors, that took us two hours to pull down. But I will continue to look.”

“Thank you, Ms. Potter,” Lizzie said, ever the girl with manners.

After tea most of them went flying again. Rina picked up a broom and was chosen as seeker for one of the teams, while James flew for the other team. Blaise hoped it would not come to blows. Luna had a slightly worried frown on her face.

Harry did not participate. He sat down on the ground and stared at that sheet of paper. Ginny tried to persuade him to join but gave up and diagnosed him with ‘I’m shortly before a break-through in a case look.’

Luna sat at Blaise’s side and Blaise took her hand. Before he had met Luna, he would have wanted to be part of any fun but now he enjoyed just sitting lazily in the spring sun without any pressure to be a popular guy. He was not that good at flying anyway. The excited shouts of he fliers was all he needed. His daughters were on one team with Rina and spurred her on.

Harry waved his wand, enchanting small pebbles, whispering under his breath. By now, he had filled several sheets with the intricate patterns. He asked Blaise and Luna to enchant some of the pebbles and repeated the process with their pebbles. The patterns looked different.

Neville stood at the side of the flyers, a muggle phone in his hands and if Blaise was not mistaken, busy trying to shoot photos.

Colin, who was the only child that had not mounted a broom, approached them, a book in his hand. “Can you have a look at this? I am trying to find out, what language this is.”

Luna took the book. “Hmm. ‘Customs and Conventions of the Common house elves’. Why would you look at that?”

She briefly leafed through the book. “Sorry, Colin, this is not any language I know.”

She closed the book and was about to return it to Colin. She stopped herself when she saw Colin’s face fall, her gaze suddenly becoming focused.

“Colin,” she said. “Tell me, why this book is important!”

Colin explained something about elves and Muggle literature on elves and Luna listened to him, smiling encouragingly. She nodded along to his talk and drew her wand. With a sudden movement she pointed her wand at the book, whispered a spell and exclaimed “Got you” so loudly that Harry, Colin and Blaise flinched.

“I am sorry,” Luna explained. “There was a very strong ‘Do not notice me charm’ on the book.”

Harry resumed his study of the papers and Luna picked the book up again. “How many people have you asked about this, Colin? And how many people have put you off or lost interest?”

“Quite a lot,” Colin admitted. “Even mum would not look very long at it.”

Luna studied the pages with care. “I am quite sorry, Colin. I don’t think this book is about elves. If it were about elves you would have lost it or forgotten about it. That was a hell of a ‘Do not notice me’ charm.”

Blaise looked over his wife’s shoulder. The handwriting was a spidery untidy script.

“It looks like it might be coded.”

“That is what mum said.” Colin joined them in looking at the book on Luna’s other side. “The handwriting is a nightmare.”

“Look there is a drawing!” Luna exclaimed. She studied what was clearly a sketch of a wand movement.

Blaise’s breath caught in his lungs.

“Luna, we know this drawing style, don’t we?”

Luna tapped her lip with her wand. “This is a picture of how to tie of a _scutum_ which was placed on an object.”

Blaise snatched the book out of her hands rather rudely, something which he would not do normally.

“Harry, look at this. This is something the head auror should see.”

Harry’s head snatched up. “What?”

“Look at this! Do you recognize the drawing style? I do! But I want you to identify it!”

Harry looked at the book and Blaise could see the exact moment when he understood. His eyes widened and his hands quivered, just a tiny bit.

“Merlin. Of all the times, this has to surface now!” Harry closed his eyes.

“Where did you find this, Colin?”

Colin was confused about the commotion. “In the library at Hogwarts.”

“I’ve looked through the library about a dozen times, and I never found it.” Harry was shaken, deeply shaken. Blaise could not help himself. He felt smug. That Colin of all people had found it!

“To be fair, Harry, the ‘Do not notice me’ spell on the book was very strong,” Luna tried to console him.

“Care to tell Colin, what this is?” Blaise asked.

Harry waved his wand, whispering. The spidery script resorted itself and became a familiar meticulous and orderly handwriting.

Now, Colin grabbed the book. “That is dad’s handwriting. How is that dad’s handwriting?”

Colin was trembling and Blaise conjured a chair, so that he could sit. The boy had gone pale. “There’s still some spell, or… no it’s just code, isn’t it?”

Harry let out a loud breath. “Your father wrote code, disguised his handwriting, put a ‘Do not notice me’ charm on this, that would prevent anyone from finding it, who looked for these particular notes, and hid it in the section of the library, that is almost never used. And then he stored his own memory away.”

“You could argue that he overdid it.” Blaise laughed. “On the other hand, he feared for his life. Even today some people might be ready to kill for the secret of the Phoenix Potion.”

“Colin, you cannot let anyone know about this!” Harry directed his gaze at the boy.

Colin’s face that had been so pale, flushed very suddenly, his eyes flashing with an anger Blaise had never seen on the usually well-behaved boy. He even made a fist with the hand that did not hold the book.

“This is the key to my father’s exoneration. Why should I keep this a secret!” Colin hissed. “We’ve been ridiculed for believing my father for ages. We get detentions for claiming that this very book exists.”

Harry flinched at the boy’s outburst.

“You know, Colin, it could be dangerous to let this be common knowledge, before it has been decoded.” Luna tried to reason with him, doing her best as always to disperse the tension.

Blaise doubted that this was the reason for Harry’s worry.

“Please, hear me out,” Harry’s voice sounded stressed. He ran his hands through his messy hair.

Colin held on to the book with white knuckles. He pressed his lips together, tense as a drawn bowstring.

“Is this the moment you collect in on your favours, Mr Potter?” Colin’s voice was low but determined.

“Collect in on my favours?” Harry asked.

“You gave that phone to my grandmother. She called Dad, and Dad…” Colin stopped himself as if he did not want to elaborate. If Narcissa had called Draco, it was bound to have been very emotional.

Colin eyed Harry with suspicion. “My mum said, that you either wanted to repay a debt or that you might want something from us in return. That you would collect in on this favour.”

“Why do you suspect it’s the latter?”

“Because I do not trust you.”

Harry sighed. “I can hardly blame you for that.”

Luna’s hand in Blaise’s had gone all clammy and cold. Her eyes had gone wide. Blaise took her hand in both of his and rubbed it and drew small circles into the palm of her hand to calm her. He knew she feared that the uneasy truce and mutual ignoring that had been achieved in the last five years, while Ron stayed in the States, would be blasted to pieces.

Harry produced a long sheet of paper from his pockets.

“Have a look at this, Colin, don’t look at the names, just look at how many names there are.”

Colin’s brown eyes flickered shortly to the list but otherwise stayed focused on Harry’s face.

“This is a list of people who I suspect of being involved in money laundering, attacks on muggleborn children, murder and possible more plans I have only a vague idea about.”

He put the list away and pulled a small paper from his trousers.

“And this is the list of people in my department that I trust not to be involved in this.”

Luna shuddered, and Blaise desperately wished that this were just a nightmare, that he would wake up, happy, his wife at his side, his only worry being occamy smugglers. He hated even hearing about Harry’s auror business, not to mention being involved.

“This is a ridiculously short list.” Blaise said. He wasn’t really in the mood for a joke but couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, unfortunately.” Harry sighed.

Colin frowned. “I don’t see how this is connected to my father’s exoneration.” His lips were still pressed together. The boy was not easily impressed by the head auror.

Harry pointed at the notes on the Phoenix Potion. “If you go public with that, it will be like a bomb at the wizengamot or an attempt on the minister of magic. The commotion will bury all the leads I have. Give me time to dismantle this conspiracy. The effect will be better anyway, if you’ll have it decoded by the time you go public.”

Colin narrowed his eyes. “You realise that a phone for my grandmother is not nearly enough.”

Blaise would have laughed if Luna had not been so tense and distraught.

Harry studied Colin over the rim of his glasses. “Well, I didn’t expect your father’s notes to resurface, so I guess that is fair enough.”

Colin loosened his grip on the book, so that his knuckles returned to their usual colour.

“You will talk to your brother-in-law, the one at Gringotts. My father will be treated exactly like any other customer who wants to exchange pounds to galleons.”

Blaise had not known that this was a problem, but he was not surprised. Neither was Harry, if he read his mien correctly.

“We’ll get a fair price at Ollivander’s and all the other shops where we have to buy school equipment.” Again, not really a surprise, nor was it as surprise that Draco had never mentioned this either.

Blaise shook his head slightly, though. Draco could just have asked, the bloody stubborn idiot. Luna’s wide eyes showed Blaise that she was surprised. Luna was not someone who held grudges, and she never understood it when other people did. His wife thought that life was too short for grudges.

“Is there any chance you as the Black heir have a claim to be the Malfoy heir and can revoke the cut out curse on my father?” Colin wanted to know.

“I’m afraid not. I have strong reasons to suspect, that the Manor positively hates me. In this it seems to be irrelevant that I’m Sirius’ heir.”

Colin bit his lip. Blaise wondered what he would ask for next.

“I want to borrow your invisibility cloak.”

“What for?”

“I’m not going to tell. Nothing illegal.”

“One month, and not a day longer.”

Colin frowned, as if he were calculating in his head. “One month.”

“So, will you keep this a secret?”

The boy smirked, he smirked, something Blaise had never seen him do before and all of a sudden he could see Draco in Colin’s face where usually was so much of Hermione.

“I did not promise that. The decision about what to do with these notes is not mine to make. The only thing I can and will promise is that….”

He suddenly grinned widely. “I promise you, Mr Potter, that my father will hear about this.”

Blaise laughed out loud, as Harry shoved his glasses back on the bridge of his nose trying to remain composed. There was a glint in his eye, a recognition of the joke.

“Tell him to give me time until June.”

“You’ll have to talk to both my parents. Maybe they will agree. Maybe they’ll want to add to my little list.”

Luna relaxed a fraction in Blaise’s arms. She pressed his hand.

Colin held Harry’s eyes for an uncomfortable long time, but to his credit Harry did not look away. Finally, they both nodded, just as there was cheering from the flyers. Blaise turned his head and saw Rina descending to the ground, the tiny golden snitch in her hand, flushed and beaming.

Neville ran over to them, uncharacteristically oblivious to the tense mood, shouting excitedly. “I got the perfect shot!”

He showed his muggle phone to Blaise and Luna. Somehow Neville had caught the exact moment, when Rina got hold of the snitch, her face eager and concentrated, a smile on her lips in the moment of triumph.

Neville wiped across the phone with his fingers, cursed under this breath, but finally he had managed to do what he wanted.

“Just sent this photo to Draco, at least I hope I did.”

Blaise mentally added another thing to the growing list of things to talk about with Draco and Hermione. ‘Lace’, ‘Phoenix Potion’, ‘Narcissa Malfoy’ and ‘phones’. He would definitely ask about phones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the notes resurfaced....  
> Hope you like, how that turned out!  
> Thanks to all my lovely readers who make comments! I love reading about your theories, although I have to refrain from answering.


	73. Spinner's end (19 September 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to find evidence in the amortentia case.

“Look, Ron, Hermione never wanted us on her birthday, not since the war.” Ginny clearly did not want to excuse her brother for moping more intensely on Hermione’s birthday than on other days.

“She sent back my present.” Ron sat on the sofa, his face in his hands. “Why does it take so bloody long for the effect of that damn potion to wear off.”

“You just have to be patient,” Harry told Ron.

“You can talk, Harry,” Ron snapped. “You and Ginny…” He did not finish the sentence and hung his head.

“Sorry,” he said. “I try not to be a jealous bastard.”

Harry laid his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “I know, Ron.” His eyes met Ginny’s and they came to a silent understanding. Harry nodded.

“Look Ron, we’ll fetch George and do some flying. That will cheer you up.” Ginny suggested.

“And I’ll quiz Professor Slughorn again. He must have some idea on when this bloody amortentia is going to wear off.” Not that Harry expected to get new insight, not really. The hope in Ron’s face hurt. But it would mean that Ginny and her brothers would have a tolerable afternoon with Ron. Flying always put his friend in a good mood.

***

Harry flood to Hogwarts. Like the last time, he had been in Hogwarts, he went to the library. Just to calm his conscience, he would search another section for Malfoy’s notes. Not that he really expected to find them, but whenever Hermione snapped out of her amortentia induced infatuation with Malfoy he wanted to have the moral upper hand. He pictured himself telling her in a calm voice, that he had really looked everywhere.

Today he searched the section about Magical creatures. It was not the most heavily used section of the Hogwarts Library. If Harry had to hide a book, he would hide it here and then scatter dust, so that it would look like no one had touched that shelf in decades. He started with the left upmost shelf and systematically worked his way through the room. He waved his wand to get rid of the dust after he had sneezed the third time in a row. Sometimes he was distracted by the illuminations in the old tomes. Some of them looked like medieval muggle manuscripts, and Harry was sure, that some of these creatures were as fantastical as their muggle counterparts. He came across a book on magical creatures in India and there was even one page on occamies. Harry wondered why it was alongside elaborate illuminations that sported women in laced dresses and jewellry. He remembered that Luna had told him that every book on magical beasts before Newt Scamander could be considered highly unreliable.

When he reached the shelf with books on house elves, he was already tired of dusty old tomes. In one book he found a small paper that held Hermione’s handwriting. Of course, she had not defiled the book by writing into the margins, but she obviously had not abstained from making her strong opinions known, in the unlikely case anyone else but her would read the book.

 _Making house elves care for small wizarding children is a very clever move to perpetuate their attachment to the families_ , he read. _The elves cannot help but come to love the small helpless children. But when they grow older the children are expected to distance themselves from their former nurses. Older children and adult wizards and witches are discouraged to stay in contact with the elves who cared for them as small children, and as they grow more independent in puberty, their emotional bond will grow weaker, but the elves will not forget that easily_.

Harry had to smile briefly, remembering Hermione’s S.P.E.W obsession in third year, but the smile vanished quickly when he thought about the current predicament. He took the note and decided to show it to Hermione. He would bet half his Gringotts vault that Prudy had looked after Malfoy when he was a child. The next book was just another edition of the same book on the ‘Customs and Conventions of the Common house elves’ and he just let the pages ran through his fingers without looking at the pages and put it back. Hermione had not put any notes into that one.

***

When he left the library, he pondered what he could do in addition to persuade Hermione that he was really trying to be fair – provided she would deign to talk to him. He decided to pay a visit to Snape, or rather to his portrait.

Headmistress McGonagall kindly allowed him access to the headmaster’s bureau. As always Harry was a bit at a loss in Snape’s presence. He had hated the man while he lived, a feeling that had been mutual. And yet, he knew about his efforts to bring Voldemort down and he did not begrudge Snape the reputation of a good Slytherin and a war hero. The man was dead after all.

Still conversations with Snape made Harry quite uncomfortable. He did not know, if it was due to how the portrait had been done – in haste and focussed on giving Harry the important information on horcruxes including that he himself had been one – or if it was a residue of the obsession Snape had actually felt, but listening to Snape talking about his love for Lily Evans gave him goose bumps. He tried to be polite, but he could not hide that he disliked how his mother kept coming up in conversations with Snape. As for other information it was always a bit of a gamble if Snape could be of help. Harry suspected that the portrait remembered at least some of Snape’s long-time preoccupation, but some gaps in the portrait’s mind were unexplainable. Snape’s portrait did not know anything about _veritaserum_ for example, when he had brewed the most potent truth serum.

It did certainly not help to ease Harry’s conversation with Snape that his former potions teacher was positively smug about Malfoy being married to Hermione. The portrait did not have much information on Malfoy, but apparently Snape thought that Draco Malfoy getting his Gryffindor crush was a late retribution for Snape losing his, even if it had been Ron who had been dumped for the Slytherin and not Harry, the son of James Potter.

And Lily Evans – never Potter – always came up, even when Harry was talking about different subjects. Today, he interviewed Snape on amortentia. In her latest plea for the abandonment of the contact ban, Hermione had argued that the recipe for the amortentia variant that could be done in the muggle way was only existent in a single manuscript in the Department of Mysteries and that there was no way, that Draco could have access to that when he had been living as a muggle in London. Professor Slughorn had denied that and had produced a rare copy of the journal by the notorious Roman wizard Vinicius, who had dabbled in many branches of magic, potions and charms and some spells that bordered on the dark arts. Harry hoped that Snape could tell him if he had been familiar with Vinicius.

Snape’s portrait frowned when he was confronted with the question and admitted that he had owned a copy of Vinicius.

“Half of what Vinicius wrote was utter rubbish. He was old when he wrote his journal, and in his dotage. It took me years to make sense of some of the things he wrote.”

If Snape’s portrait remembered that, the potions master’s preoccupation with Vinicius must have been intense indeed.

“Did Malfoy see the book? You were his godfather after all, and he was your favourite student in potions?”

Snape’s face closed. Even as a portrait that held only a fracture of his brilliant mind, he was smart enough to realise where Harry was headed.

“Certainly not,” he said. “I would never have shown that to anyone. I worked on a commentary on Vinicius, an extract of the useful and interesting things. That was highly advanced research, nothing for students, even talented ones.”

Snape snorted. He did not say explicitly, that Harry had never been a talented student, but Harry heard it nonetheless. “I never tried Vinicius’ recipe for amortentia. Why should I try something that takes thrice as long as the usual recipe? And I would never have stooped down to brew amortentia.”

Harry was quite sure, that Snape was lying to protect Draco. “Thrice as long? How long is that?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “Potter, how long does it take to brew amortentia?”

Harry rolled his eye in turn and was tempted to stick out his tongue, from war-hero to war-hero. “Professor Slughorn says that it takes a year to brew amortentia the muggle way. That is why it takes so long for the effect to fade.”

Snape frowned. “Not with Vinicius’ recipe. That is supposedly three weeks.”

“Then the effect should only last nine weeks and then the victim becomes disenamoured?” That made no sense. Hermione was still very much enamoured and unreasonable.

“Well done, Potter. You can actually triple a number and come up with the right result.”

Harry sighed exasperated. “Professor Snape, you do realise that you are a bit childish.” He preferred being scolded like a pupil to being lectured on the many charms of Lily Evans though.

“Pardon me.” The former potions master looked somewhat contrite. “I was lapsing into bad habits.”

Snape’s gaze became intense, and his mien was serious. “Believe me, Potter,” he said. “From all that I know, it is not feasible, that Draco brewed amortentia, not because of what he might have known or not known about any recipe. I do not think my godson would have tried to cheat his way into Ms. Granger’s affections. To get the affection of someone you love like that? That would just have been a cheap copy, a shadow of a shadow.” He shook his head vigorously.

Harry swallowed his anger. He did not believe that Snape really was sorry for behaving like the arrogant teacher he had been, but he would not destroy his chances to consult Snape occasionally, not on purpose.

“You know, Professor Snape. I’ve become careful to claim to know what people would do or would not do.”

He grinned. “After all, there are many things you did, I would have claimed to be completely out of character before I saw your memories.” So, maybe his temper still could get hold of him.

***

Harry spoke with Professor Slughorn next and told him about the peculiar coincidence that a copy of the notorious Vinicius had also been in Snape’s possession. The head of Slytherin was surprised, that Snape’s portrait remembered this.

“I have been at Spinner’s End in May this year and I didn’t find any books, just potions ingredients.”

“What?” Harry asked. “That can’t be. Searching Snape’s house was one of the first things I did during auror training just in case there was something valuable. There was nothing there, nothing. And why would you go there now. Snape’s been dead for four years.”

Professor Slughorn made to put more heat under the cauldron that sat on his fire and stirred the potion, whispering a spell and blowing carefully on the liquid while big blue-turquoise drops fell into the cauldron from his wand.

“Some wards dissipate with time. I’ve checked every year, but it was only this year, that I found something.”

He shrugged. “Not much, some rare ingredients, put under a stasis charm. As good as the day Severus bought them. I left the more common ingredients there.”

Harry shook his head slightly. Leave it to Slughorn to try to cut expenses by plundering an abandoned house.

“So, what do you say, which recipe did Malfoy use?”

Slughorn shook his head. “I am so sorry for your friend, Harry. Such a bright witch! But there can’t be any doubt, that it was the recipe that takes a year. I’ve run the analysis after all.”

He turned and gave a generous sprinkle of blind worm stings into the potion.

“Vinicius’ recipe works without ginger, and there was definitely ginger in that cauldron.” Slughorn added.

“So, we just have to be patient.” Harry dreaded that he had to crush Ron’s hope. He would remember the hint about the ginger, though, just in case Parkinson tried to argue in favour of Malfoy again.

Harry politely asked after the potion Slughorn was preparing and learned that the potions master was trying something new, a potion that would neutralise enchanted or cursed objects.

“Wow,” Harry remarked. “Do you want to drive curse breakers out of their jobs?”

The professor laughed. “So far it only works on small spells. Not very useful yet. I can clean a goblin silver plate of the anti-tarnishment spell worked into it. But nobody would even want that.”

***

Next on Harry’s list was the house-elf Prudy, but that turned out to be a very short visit. The elves in the Hogwarts kitchen were polite enough, even though they definitely had been friendlier in Harry’s time at the school, but Prudy busied herself in the kitchen and ignored Harry altogether. She wouldn’t even answer his question, if she had looked after Malfoy, when he had been a child.

“The Malfoy trial is closed, Mr Potter,” Prudy told him while she vigorously stirred in a pot that held sauce. “I gave my testimony, and nobody believed me. I will not tell you anything unless you take me in for questioning. And for that you need a warrant.”

She took the spoon out of the top and pointed it at him. “And I would contest any warrant you produce, Mr Potter. I am a free elf and I have just the lawyer at hand who would love to sue you for unduly taking me for an interview.”

Harry gave up. He would get no answers from Prudy.

***

Just out of curiosity Harry did not apparate directly to the Burrow but made a detour to Snape’s house. It looked shabbier than four years ago, but otherwise it was just the same, but when Harry entered, he immediately realised that there was an additional room. A room that had not been there before. He ran an analysis on wards’ residues. It was not as Slughorn had said. The wards had not grown weaker with time, the wards had been set to a condition, not Snape’s death or Voldemort’s death, but Snape had connected the wards to the Grangers, if he read it correctly. Snape’s wards had fallen the moment Hermione had been reunited with her parents. Harry admired how intricately Snape had set the wards. Even from the residues, he could see that it was a work of art.

Harry thought long and hard about that, while he searched the small room. It was exactly as Slughorn had told him. There were vials upon vials and flasks upon flasks all labelled with Snape’s small but tidy handwriting. It made sense, that Snape had wanted to keep his secrets even beyond his own death and Voldemort’s death would have been tricky to set. What if Voldemort had died but one horcrux had survived? So Snape had set the wards to dissipate at a time, when the muggles he had saved were reunited with their daughter. Still risky, but Snape had ensured that the Grangers would only search for their daughter after they heard the name Voldemort. And the Grangers had been at Snape’s house and he could anchor the conditions of the wards to them. Harry wondered if Slughorn had realised that it had not been a matter of wards weakening.

It was only happenstance that the last rays of sunshine that fell through the window reflected on the glass of the numerous vials and flasks. If Harry had stood differently or if the sun had not come out, he would never have found it. One vial held no label, the reflection of the sun met Harry’s glasses directly and made him squint for a moment. He identified the offending vial and picked it up, curiously. It tingled when he touched it and for a moment, a feeling of numbness ran over his hands. There was a ward on it, one that was not meant for Harry. A silvery-grey fog was wafting on the inside. That was no potion ingredient. If Harry knew the late potions master at all this vial had been meant for Hermione. He pressed his fist around the vial and let it slip into his pocket.

When he arrived at the Burrow, the mood was even worse than in the morning. Arthur Weasley sat encircled by his children and daughters-in-law and they all spoke words of encouragement. Apparently, the voices that demanded his resignation because of the house elf crisis he somehow should have foreseen, were growing louder and louder. Harry wondered how Arthur could have known about that. It should be obvious that Arthur was not attached to pureblood traditions. Harry suspected the Weasleys had abolished quite a lot over time.

Nobody remembered that Arthur Weasley had done his best to oversee the rebuilding of wizarding society. Other Purebloods accused him that he should have known about Sammael Malfoy’s thrice cursed house elf pact, because apparently it had been put into place because Archibald Weasley had married a halfblood, Sophie with some common muggle name like Smith or Miller. And this had been the incentive for Sammael to close the lines of the “real” pureblooded heirs. The Weasleys were all seething with anger.

On top of it all, Hermione had proven to be relentless in her attempts to question the contact ban. She had handed in another plea. This time she wanted Malfoy to be allowed to be present at the birth of their child.

Molly cursed Hermione, while Ron tried to plead for patience. Ron was very erratic in what he said about Hermione. He fumed and ranted at her himself but would not allow others to say something against her.

Percy was complaining about the injustice his father had to endure, George called Ron ‘Fred’ in a rare moment of forgetfulness, which made Ginny cry, while little Victoire Weasley wailed about her favourite stuffed toy. Harry listened to the ruckus, his emotions in turmoil. He felt pity and sadness for Ron, anger at the prejudices even a pureblood like Arthur had to endure, longing for being alone with Ginny, frustration that the usual Weasley family remedy – flying and Molly’s cooking – had not worked. All these blended together in a fog in his brain that mimicked the silvery-grey wafting in the vial that sat in Harry’s pockets. The vial felt like it pierced his trousers and burned his skin despite being colder than a piece of ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, another Harry PoV.... I hope that you can see, that Harry's motives are multiple and varied....  
> I actually enjoy writing his PoV very much, mostly because he is an unreliable narrator and you have to guess at some of the things that drive him.


	74. Pillow Talk IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger-Malfoys celebrate the recurrence of the Phoenix Potion notes.

Draco had texted Hermione and told her to hurry. But since it was no emergency, they had decided that she would wait for an international portkey instead of hopping home via multiple apparations.

They were all still up, when Hermione finally arrived from Geneva, even little Robert, although he was technically dozing off on Draco’s lap. Draco exchanged a grin with Rina, when Hermione realised immediately that it was important because Prudy was sitting with them.

“We are celebrating,” Meg told her.

“I can see that.” She raised an eyebrow at the mess on the table. Draco had made burgers and chips, giving in to popular demand usually reserved for rare occasions like birthdays. Rina and he had a glass of wine and there were jelly beans, cocoa, chocolate, crisps. He had plundered the sweets compartment on the top shelf. Prudy was nipping on a glass of tea.

Colin grinned broadly. They had agreed that he deserved to tell the news. “Because of this, mum.”

He showed her the notes. At first, Hermione frowned, she had seen the book after all, but her eyes widened when she recognized Draco’s handwriting.

“No,” she said, still a hint of disbelief in her voice.

They laughed. “Oh yes.”

“You put these notes in the house elves section? In the house elves section? Merlin!”

Colin told her all, what kind of spells had been put on the book. That he might never have been so insistent, if he had not been convinced the book was about house elves.

“I can hardly believe how many layers you put on those notes, love,” Hermione’s eyes shone.

Draco thought that her excitement at his achievement was very promising. He had always known that the path to Hermione’s heart and interest was intelligence and if he were not entirely mistaken, he would have a good chance to make the best of it, later when they were alone. He grinned at her and gazed intently into her eyes.

“Anybody who was looking for the notes would not find them. Did you get the idea from Dumbledore? He hid the philosopher’s stone like that.”

Draco shrugged. “I don’t remember, but I might have.”

Hermione laughed. “Colin’s persistent interest in elves is to blame. What do you say to that, Prudy?”

Prudy shook her head. “Well, when I saw these notes in their original form they weren’t bound, and as a book… that Do-not-notice was exceptional. Not that I would look at ‘Customs and Conventions of the Common house elves’.” She scrunched her face.

Hermione leafed through the book. “What codes did you use, Draco?”

“That is the downside.” Draco admitted. “Colin could have shoved that book into my face and I probably would not have recognized it. I have absolutely no memory of the codes I used. I just know that I did not use a simple encoding spell.”

“Of course not, that would have been easy to break after all. Why make anything easy?” Rina rolled her eyes.

“Well, even though you were the greatest wizard at the time you wrote this, I am still confident, we can break the code.” Hermione was looking forward to it, Draco could hear the excitement in her voice. Her cheeks were flushed, and Draco loved to see it. Their eyes met shortly again. He flashed a smile at her.

“I might have used several codes.”

“Nevermind. We’ll get it.”

“I’ve already made a list of words most likely to appear.” Rina had already decided she would rub this under Professor Thompson’s nose.

She had also made several copies of the notes, so that some could be put away for safekeeping, and the children would each get a copy to carry to school. Draco had had no success in dissuading the children from working on the notes, even though school started again on Monday.

“Prudy you’re bound to come up,” Colin told the little elf.

Prudy tilted her head and just glanced at Draco. He felt a sudden flush in his cheeks that was not due to his excitement.

“Oh Merlin,” he said, grimacing.

“What is it, dad?”

“It’s just …. We often joke about that now, but… When you all work on that notes, you will realise what an absolute prick I was … using Prudy as my guinea pig.”

Prudy’s smile was amused. “Yes, you did that. But when it came to actually swallowing the potion you did it yourself.”

“I’m quite sure, I did that, because I wanted to know if it would work on a wizard.” It pained to admit that.

“As you are prone to tell everybody, motives can be complicated, and it might have come into it as well, that you actually took pity on my fear.”

Draco smiled at Prudy. “You are too nice for this world, you should team up with Luna.”

“Prudy and Luna, the only Jane Bennetts, we know.” He could hear the amusement in Hermione’s voice, and they shared another look. Usually at least one of the children would have remarked on the utter grossness of their parents exchanging wordless flirtation, but their excitement about this new development was far too great to even notice the burning looks.

“There are still some chips left, mum” Lizzie pointed them out.

“They are cold by now,” Draco made to stand and reheat them or fetch something else.

“There is no need. I’ll just take some wine. I had enough food at the conference.”

The children told her about Penny’s party then, how Draco’s cake had been ‘gobbled up’ by the Weasleys, that Rina had beaten James to the snitch, that uncle Neville had made a photo of that, and that Penny had been absolutely thrilled about the occamy figure. Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s again and her smug smile told him, that he had guessed right. She **had** wanted to outshine everyone with her present.

Colin was called upon again to describe how his talk with Potter had gone and Hermione face showed something between pride and amusement. Finally, all the wine was finished and even the cold chips were eaten, and they made ready to go to bed.

“I made a groupchat for madam, and the first thing I sent was the photo of Rina catching the snitch. I’ll add you to it.”

“Oh, and Robert came up with the neat solution of how we can call Dad’s mother,” Lizzie put in.

Hermione looked at Draco with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault our children decided that granny or grandma would not do. And the curse would probably cut the connection the moment they say that. She called today, and as I was talking to her, Robert interrupted us.”

As if on cue, Robert opened his eyes, and smiled sleepily at Hermione.

“It’s high time for you to go to bed, little one.” Hermione took him in her arms.

“Robert,” Draco urged him. “Tell mum who talked to you, today on the phone.”

“Grandmadam,” Robert said.

Hermione laughed. “I swear, you are such a rascal,” she told him. “I am certain you should be able to talk more. The name fits her very well. She might even like it.”

“And it doesn’t trigger the curse,” Draco added. “Madam wants to hire Duncan Miller to do research on the impact of muggleborns on wizarding society for her new foundation.”

Hermione grinned. “To be paid in galleons.”

“Obviously.”

***

In all the ruckus, Draco had almost forgotten to ask Hermione how the conference had been.

She waved the question aside. “Unpleasant. Some of the WfG campaigners border on being anarchists. And they were trying to tell me that goblins would have wands in Britain by autumn. Morons. The law won’t pass the wizengamot just like the last five times.”

She began to unbutton her blouse. “If I had known what surprise awaited me, I would have tried to apply for an earlier portkey.”

“We didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Everyone wanted to see your face.” Draco had wanted to see her face and it had not been a disappointment.

Hermione turned to him and her eyes held a glint that went directly to Draco’s core.

“Do you think that Potter really searched for my notes?” Draco asked. He did not want to spoil the excellent mood, but he was genuinely curious.

“He had no reason to lie about that. The more interesting question is, when. After the end of the ban?”

“I think he must have done that after.” Draco did not think Potter would have looked for them before. That would mean that Potter knew he had been framed before the lift of the ban. Potter had never deigned to admit that he had at some point understood that Draco had been framed. But Draco would bet that Potter had been in denial until the end of the ban.

“Can you believe that our Colin really pulled that? He is your son after all.” Hermione jested.

“Well, he pressured Potter, that means he is **your** son.” Draco pointed out.

They both laughed.

“I promise you, Mr Potter, that my father will hear about this.” Hermione said with a condescending and arrogant voice. Was this supposed to be his voice when he had been a child?

Draco threw a fake punch at her. “I am not sure, this is funny, Granger,” he growled, but he only held on his scowl for a few seconds. He laughed again. He had not known Colin had it in him.

“Just imagining Potter’s face when he realised what he held in his hands…. ”

“And Blaise. He must have felt so smug.”

His eyes met hers. Her eyes were dancing.

“Poor Luna though, she must have gotten anxiety from the situation possibly blowing up.” That probably was true. But Blaise would have been there to ground her.

“Do you believe that there is this big conspiracy?”

“We don’t need to take Harry’s word for that. We’ll ask Pansy. I wonder if Harry really will come and talk to us.” Hermione’s voice was muffled, because her head had vanished in the shirt she took off.

“Well, we don’t really need to rush. And it might really be a better idea to go public after we deciphered my notes. We can give him some time.” Draco’s good mood was making him feel rather generous. He could be mature about this. Just the imagination of Potter’s face was enough to quell any lingering need for revenge.

“Rina is hell bent. She will lord this over Professor Thompson.” Hermione’s head had popped out of her blouse, her hair delightfully messy. Draco reached out to flatten the strands that stuck out.

“We should agree on what we want. I don’t want Potter to manipulate us. I don’t have a feeling of strong solidarity with the aurors.” That was an understatement. Draco thought all aurors but Pansy could rot, at the very least aurors who had been involved eighteen years ago.

Hermione scoffed. “Neither do I. We’ll get, what is our due. Nothing less than a full exoneration.”

She still had her bra on and reached behind her back.

“I seem to have a problem here.” Her eyes shone again just like when she had heard about all his spells on the Phoenix Potion notes. “I’m sure this problem needs a bright man to solve it.”

Draco edged closer in no time at all. “Am I the right man? For my bee dot itch?”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “A man who successfully hid a book for twenty years in the middle of the Hogwarts Library? I think, I can trust you to unhook my bra.”

And so he did.

He brought his mouth close to her ears and purred. “You know, love, I could try and see how far my voice can get you. It’s been a while since we did that.”

The flush on Hermione’s neck was very promising.

“A hundred years should go to praise/ Thine Eyes, and on thy Forehead Gaze./Two hundred to adore each breast…” he whispered into her ear.

***

“I can’t believe that happened.” Draco held the condom and let out a long string of curses. “Condoms ripping is supposed to be an urban legend.”

Hermione’s face was as startled as his own.

“Shit,” she said. Her face had paled.

“I hope today isn’t one of your fertile days.”

Hermione scrunched her face, baring her teeth in an awkward half smile.

“Oh no, fuck, fuck, fuck. Why does this keep happening? You should think we are imbeciles at contraception.”

“It’s not your fault, love. We’ve been using condoms for ages. It must have had a defect.”

He groaned. “We only ever wanted two, two! Not that I want to complain about our children, but…. this is just our luck….”

“Calm yourself, Draco, I’m forty.”

Then she laughed awkwardly. “Just last week Luna told me, that you only need to loosen your belt for me to become pregnant.”

“Let’s hope that was not on of Luna’s uncanny predictions.” Draco closed his eyes.

“Come over, love,” Hermione told him.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck.

“Unintentional pregnancies happen most often with teenagers and women over forty. Because people tend to think it should be over at some point,” he mumbled.

That made her laugh for real. “It’s not signed in stone yet, Draco.”

“How can you be so sanguine about that?”

She stroked his neck. “Our financial problems are a thing of the past. Now that your mother is invested in magical creatures and wants to run that programme for muggleborns. And pregnancies are easy on me, you know that. I am lucky in that regard.”

“You always forget the part where you are actually in labour and punch me and swear that this time you will remember the pain of the baby actually popping out. And then there is the lack of sleep…..”

She chuckled. “There is no need to choose baby names yet, love.”

“I swear, I am going to make an appointment for that vasectomy. First thing tomorrow.”

“The day after tomorrow. Tomorrow is Sunday.”

“No, it’s after midnight, love, tomorrow is Monday.”

She hit him playfully. “Let’s just hope, that Dr Church doesn’t get the flu like the last two times and cancels again. And I’ll just swallow that vile ‘after’ potion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all agree that the family needs to celebrate....
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely comments from old and new readers.


	75. Awkward negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Hermione and Draco to negotiate about the keeping the Phoenix Potions notes secret.

It had been a long time since Harry had dreaded something he had to do. And he knew that staving off would not help.

And yet he was tempted to stay at home and work on the magical signatures of the people who had enchanted the figurines. He had already done several samples, but he would have to connect the signatures to actual wizards and witches. But if he could, he would have excellent and damning evidence. He wondered who he could dispatch to collect signature of the suspects. Inconspicuously.

Harry stamped on the temptation to delay. After all, if tomorrow’s Prophet would have a headline on the exoneration of Draco Malfoy, some people might start asking questions. He told himself that this was after all not the first time he had to inform people that they had been observed. He would just play this by the book.

He grabbed his invisibility cloak, left Grimmauld, and apparated to Mayweed Grove under the cloak. It was as if fate wanted to reward him for not procrastinating. He stood on the other side of the street and could just see the Malfoys getting into the car, all of them. He overheard Hermione telling one of her daughters, that they should not eat the chocolate in front of grandma and grandad, and no they should not leave it in the car either, because it was too hot. The youngest demanded ‘Winnie Pooh’ very loudly, while the older children protested. Apparently, every one of them wanted something different. The toddler began to wail, but the noise was cut off, when Hermione slammed the door of the van. The last thing Harry heard was something about ‘if I hear the word wasted again from you, little drama queen’.

Harry pondered his options. It was obvious that the Malfoys were off to visit the grandparents, and they might not be back before evening. Harry decided again on immediate action. It would do him some good to practice breaking wards anyway.

He took out his wand and prepared to run revealing spells. On a hunch he first made the move to disable the wards that would be triggered by revealing spells and smiled when these fell apart. Hermione would realise they were gone, when they returned, but Harry had not to think about remaining undetected. How many wards would Hermione have placed on the house?

Harry worked his way through the intricate weaving of Hermione’s wards. She probably would be angry at him for destroying the piece of art that were her wards, but that would be the least of his problems anyway. Harry began to sweat when he realized that some of the wards had to be dissolved almost simultaneously. Some of the cursed wards rebounded like rubber bands. It felt like an eternity, until he finally disabled the last ward, even the one that had an additional ‘do not notice me’ on top. It could not have been more than a few minutes though.

Harry opened the door feeling smug, just a little bit. He had not lost his grip, even though it had been him against Hermione’s wards. Maybe he would have noticed the muggle device if he had not basked in his triumph. An alarm went off and Harry let out a string of curses. Of course, Hermione would install muggle devices in addition.

He had to be fast now. He was certain, it would take Hermione only seconds to arrive. He cast his _patronus_ and sent him in front of the door, in the hope that Hermione would not crash in immediately if she knew it was him. He ran upstairs, frantically searching. He heard a loud crack and knew Hermione had apparated. He looked out of the window and saw Hermione studying his _patronus_.

She opened her bag and took out her mobile. “Draco? Apparently, it was Harry. He broke through the wards. I guess he wants to talk. Want to turn the car and come as well and we’ll weather it together?”

High time to make use of the additional minutes. Harry waved his wand in several quick casts and looked for the tell-tale line that would show him where the safe was. Finally, he found it, a poster that aligned perfectly to the safe. Another disabled ward and an alohomora later he held the two galleons, that had not been spent since January. There was also a bunch of photos. Obviously, they had already made a copy of the notes on the Phoenix Potion. Not that he had expected anything else. He deactivated the recording charm, which only needed his touch, reset the wards with Hermione’s signature. A quick glance out of the window showed him the Malfoy’s car turning into the lane. He brushed the mirror on his way out, casting a spell that was standard procedure at the end of an observation, and made his way back downstairs. He took off the invisibility cloak and folded it.

Harry was sitting on the sofa studying the well-ordered and tidy living room and the bookshelves by the time the front-door opened, and the whole family entered. He let his _patronus_ go.

“You breached my wards,” Hermione’s face was set in a frown.

Harry nodded. “And bloody tough work that was. First, I almost triggered the ward that would notify you of any revealing charms being cast, then I almost dissolved them in the wrong order and lastly, I only skirted the last ward on a hunch. And then I fell for that muggle device like a fool.”

“Why didn’t you just notify us? Or ring the doorbell? Colin warned us after all, that you wanted to talk.” Malfoy’s eyes glittered.

“I’m not out for field work that often. I’m getting rusty, and I needed some exercise, pitting myself against really tough wards.” He shrugged. “I won and lost to the muggle alarm.”

“You did not deactivate the last alert ward.” Hermione pointed to her necklace where a red stone shone. “And you should really take muggle technology into account.”

“I am about to remedy that. My cousin Dudley will be our new liaison for muggle technology.”

The children were filing in after their parents. The eldest daughter made no effort to hide her glare, and the others looked at him with a guarded expression. Well, he had broken into their house.

Harry tied his invisibility cloak to a bundle and threw it at Colin. “Here, as promised.”

Malfoy was not diverted that easily. “Put your wand on the table and let Hermione run a _priori incantatem_ over it. I don’t believe that bullshit about practising ward dissolution. You were alone in our house for only a few minutes, but that would be enough to do something.”

Harry threw up his hands. The man was far too suspicious, even if he had reason. “I mean no harm, just hear me out.”

“Your wand, Potter.” Malfoy insisted.

“POTTTER,” the toddler said, as if the word was funny.

The smaller girls let out a nervous giggle and Hermione bade the children to leave them alone.

Harry put his wand on the table, alongside the observation warrant, he had brought.

“I admit that I checked your safe. I’m not surprised that you already have a backup of the Phoenix Potion notes. I didn’t take anything.”

Malfoy ran up the stairs, probably to check the safe. Hermione who had not lowered her wand for single moment, cast the _priori incantatem_ on Harry’s wand.

She observed the unfolding of his last spells up to the point where he had apparated. Her face was set in concentration.

“You unlocked our safe and then you reset the wards. Did you truly expect to get away with this? I was the person, who showed Pansy and Neville how to copy wards with the original magical signature.”

Harry shrugged. “No, not really, if I am honest. It just had to try.”

“What was that last spell, you used?”, she asked. “What does it do?”

“Standard procedure. When an observation is finished. Last message to the file case in the department.” Not a lie.

Malfoy returned. “The photos are still there.”

“You didn’t tell Colin, that we were under observation.” Hermione’s face was dark with anger. “He said something about a conspiracy.”

Hermione handed Malfoy the warrant wordlessly. Malfoy studied it, his face a mask.

“Diversion.” His voice was a hiss. “Diversion?”

“I needed people to think that I was preoccupied elsewhere. I still need them to think that. That is why your notes must remain a secret, at least for a little while. They resurfaced at a rather inconvenient moment.” That was an understatement.

He looked at Malfoy. “I told you in February, that I did not suspect you of anything. It was true then and it is true now.”

Silence fell heavy between them. Hermione’s left hand was balled to a fist, and her right hand gripped her wand so tightly, that the knuckles stood out.

“But you had no qualms to let everybody believe that you suspected us of something,” she finally said.

Harry frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that, Harry. Us. If it’s about Draco, it is about me as well. What would you have done if someone tried to frame us again? Stood by to not blow your cover?” Her voice was flat, in stark contrast to the anger that burned in her eyes.

Harry pressed his lips together. “Someone is trying to divert my attention to you. I suspect it is just a back-up, not a serious frame, but I thought I’d better give the impression that I bought this.”

“How exactly?” Malfoy wanted to know. He had taken Hermione’s left hand in his, trying to loosen her balled fist.

Harry looked at them over the rim of his glasses, so that their faces became blurred and that just their hand were sharp in his vision.

Hermione stood. “Harry, if you do not tell everything, this talk will end here and now, and I’ll give an exclusive interview to the Prophet tomorrow. I don’t care about this damn conspiracy. The bloody auror department has been compromised for ages. And you knew it. You have known it the moment you realised Draco was framed with that bloody cauldron. And don’t tell me you did not realise that at some point. You’ve headed that bloody department for ten years now.”

Harry decided to not open the can of worms that was the amortentia case. He moved his head so that Hermione was in the focus of his glasses, but Malfoy who stood at her side, was still blurred. “There were attacks on Muggleborns that were concentrated in Wiltshire, at least one of the spells used against them is a spell Severus Snape invented, a spell that should have been lost. A spell that was only ever used on Malfoy as far as I know. Goblin silver artefacts are connected to this case and your mother-in-law was approached with an offer to sell or rather get rid of the Malfoy goblin silver and I am not convinced that it was a coincidence that Fortescue and Miller was the caterer at little Emma’s funeral.”

He saw Hermione pale. Malfoy’s face on the other hand suddenly gained colour. He had connected the dots.

“Were we bugged?” Malfoy asked through gritted teeth. Hermione’s head snapped at him.

Harry considered lying, but he hesitated for the fraction of a second too long, and he saw the moment they understood.

“The standard procedure involves the destruction of any memory or recording when the observation has turned out to be unfounded.” This might have worked on any other person Harry had observed over the years, but not on Hermione. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Why was that even necessary?” She shoved the warrant in his face. “Diversion, it says diversion. Tailing Draco would have been enough for that. And how did you do it? You said it yourself, my wards are very good.”

“They are excellent. It was sort of an accident. We were trying out a new object to get information. And I didn’t even intend for one of these to find its way to you. But then it had happened I could not let that opportunity pass.”

He gave her a lop-sided smile that was most definitely not returned.

“These things were made to pass wards, anyway, but you carried them, maybe close enough to your _scutum_.” He focused on Malfoy.

“Percy Pencil-Pusher Weasley gave me additional galleons.” Malfoy closed his eyes. “He really should know better than to suspect me of money laundering.”

He laughed without humour. “I guess recording galleons is a good method to trace money laundering. At least when people actually spend the money.”

Hermione’s eyes burned with cold anger. Harry would rather have her spitting and hissing like a wildcat.

“Who? Harry, who?” she asked.

“I’m not obliged to tell you,” Harry answered. “One was me. And I did not listen in, when it was my turn. The other was someone who can’t keep their mouth shut, which was sort of the point.”

“Does Pansy…?” Malfoy asked. He still held on to Hermione’s hand, but his other hand was fisted. He was seething.

“I already have an appointment with her, once we’ve sorted this out, … in a dark alley, where she’ll pummel me, I’m sure. While Neville holds me down.”

“How could you do this? I do not mean to us. There is no love lost between us, you didn’t risk destroying something. But Pansy! She must be torn to pieces!” Malfoy accused him harshly.

Harry put his thumb to his nose and massaged the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

“Life is unfair.” He stated. “I know it is unfair to use the people I trust. So, yes, if it were an option, I would rather hurt the people who attack innocent children than Pansy. But we need to get them. And I had to play along to their schemes, or they would have realised I’m on their trail.”

“You really know how to play your cards, Harry,” Hermione studied him with an emotion on her face, that he could not identify. “We can hardly stand in the way of justice for muggleborn children.”

“I spoke with Percy and with Ollivander, as I promised your son. I had no idea….” He let his voice trail off.

Malfoy scoffed. “You had no idea. I can well believe that. But if you had thought one minute, you **could** have had an idea. At least you do not cover your manipulations under false kindness, like Dumbledore did.”

They studied each other for a long time.

“There is a price tag attached though, Potter.”

He had expected that.

“Once this is over, and once we have managed to decipher my notes, you will make a public statement as head auror. That I should have been fully acquitted in my trial and that you have found evidence that I was framed in the Amortentia case. And that you should have trusted Hermione.”

Malfoy’s face was determined. “If you do not do this, we will sue you for undue harassment. Diversion, Diversion! That can’t be a valid reason.”

“No, it isn’t.” He had not expected Malfoy to be that reasonable. “But the stakes are high. I did not invent the conspiracy.”

“We know,” Hermione studied his face. “Pansy confirmed it.”

“I think I know who was responsible for the frame. I’ve had a hunch for ages,” Harry offered. “But there is no proof. One person is dead and the other is involved in this neo death-eater conspiracy, up to his neck. Once we make our arrest, he’ll be in deep.”

Malfoy glared. “Don’t wriggle your way out of this. I don’t care how you get evidence on a case that has been cold for almost two decades, but you **will** get it and if you have to add to the accusations of one of the hapless guys who will end up in the traps you undoubtedly set. Who do you suspect anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “As I said, there is no proof. And my second always tells me, that I should not act on hunches alone.”

Hermione and Malfoy both glared at him. Maybe mentioning Pansy had not been a good idea. But as long as they would not ruin his chances at dismantling the conspiracy….

“I offer to swear an unbreakable oath.”

“Just a promise on your magic will be sufficient. There will be no sticking to the letter of the agreement and going against the intention.” Hermione’s voice was scathing.

“I promise… on my magic,” Harry could feel the weight of his promise, a short clenching in his magic. “I will make a public statement proclaiming that you were a defector and admit my failure to see through the framing and produce a suspect.”

“Not as suspect, Potter, a culprit.” Malfoy’s lips were set in a thin line. “I know it wasn’t the Weasel, although your reluctance to share any names….”

“That is just habit. I only share names with my aurors.” Harry shrugged. “And I can’t have you on a rampage against that person. That could be almost as disastrous as you going public with the Phoenix Potion notes.”

Malfoy snorted. “I just assume, that there is no need for you to hold back. Pansy says your hunches are almost always correct. So that is enough for me. As long as it’s 900 days Azkaban for that person.”

Harry nodded.

“Promise,” Malfoy snarled.

“I promise I’ll find a culprit.” Harry had planned that he would be the one to arrest him anyway.

Heavy silence settled down on them.

Harry searched Hermione’s face. It had been so long since he had looked at her closely. There were tiny lines around her eyes, and the occasional grey had crept into the masses of her hair, much less than in his though. He saw that emotion again, the one he could not pinpoint.

“You know, Hermione, I have often wondered, what I would have said at the trial, either if you had told me the whole truth or if you had not pressured me,” he suddenly confessed. “And how this might have influenced my reaction to the planted cauldron.”

Her eyes did not waver.

“I often wondered myself.” Her voice was eerily calm as if she did not wonder any longer.

Harry decided for brutal honesty. “I always come to the conclusion that I do not know, I do not know, if I had done anything differently, not when I am honest to myself.”

He stood. “You will get a notification once the documentation of your observation has been destroyed.”

He looked at them as they stood as well, united, poised to confront him. “I am sorry, I ruined your day.”

Malfoy glared at him. “More than one day, as you very well know. Yours wasn’t entirely pleasant either, I hope. You are going to leave now, Potter.”

When he had reached the front door, Hermione called out to him.

He turned.

“Harry, this is not a demand, but an advice. I think you should step down as head auror and find something else, maybe join Neville in teaching at Hogwarts.”

It was only then, that he recognized the emotion in Hermione’s face. It was pity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of my readers have been waiting for this chapter.... And so I find myself a bit nervous about posting this. Nervous and impatient - which is an odd mixture.
> 
> I really hope that it will live up to expectations. 
> 
> I wrote this from Harry's PoV because of the last sentence. I do hope that it was the right choice for this chapter.
> 
> o.k.... *uses her ridiculous small part of Gryffindor bravery and presses the publish button*


	76. Rina (December 1, 2002)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione goes into labour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably should warn everyone that the birthing process is described in this chapter. But nothing drastic... Just so that you are warned.

Luna had brought her the bad news. The wizengamot had denied her third attempt to repeal the contact ban.

“I was so sure they would decide in our favour, how did this happen? I am about to drop a baby, for Merlin’s sake. And the father of my baby is not allowed to help me.”

“It was a stroke of really bad luck,” Luna told her. Luna was fidgety and distraught. Luna’s father had rallied votes on Hermione’s behalf but today when it had counted, somehow three of the members of the wizengamot had been prevented to attend and the votes had been 29 to 28 against her instead of 31 to 29 in her favour. It was maddening. And then they had made an additional vote that prevented her to appeal for at least half a year.

Hermione was about to voice her opinion that foul play was involved and that at the very least the broomstick control that had detained one of the members had been orchestrated by the auror department on purpose. She caught herself at the last moment.

Luna was struggling as it was. The fallout of Hermione with Harry and Ron made Luna very anxious, and she tried her best to stay friends with them all. Hermione didn’t need to add stress to the only person in the whole wizarding world who believed her. Well, that was not entirely true. The elves were extremely supportive as well, although their constant fawning over her annoyed her. She repeatedly told them, that there was no need, that the whole point of freeing the elves was that they should not worship the grounds wizards or witches walked on, and in conclusion they should also not worship her. She had complained to Prudy, and Prudy had promised to talk with the elves, but had added smugly, that the elves were free after all and that they probably just wanted to bless her. It had become better after that, though.

There was also Blaise who happened to visit quite often on flimsy excuses. He also believed her and was surprisingly good company. He always told her how Draco was, and Hermione listened attentively. Draco had gotten a driving licence and Blaise and he had borrowed a sports car last weekend. They had only avoided a speeding ticket, because Blaise had confunded the policeman. Hermione and Blaise both pretended that Blaise had no idea that Draco communicated with her via phone and she had duly voiced her astonishment about their outing. If Blaise was questioned, Hermione wanted him to be able to say that he knew nothing. It was bad enough that the auror on duty always searched him, sometimes down to his pants. Blaise always used it to show off his admittedly well-toned body.

Not that anybody but Draco or her could make anything of the texts they exchanged. Hermione was sure about that. She had no intention at all to let any auror near her phone, but even if Harry would get hold of it – Merlin forbid – he would have first to guess that amongst all the random muggle contacts she had in her phone, John Winter was Draco and then he would have to work out all the acronyms they used. And technically they were not even violating the contact ban. It was not as if Draco could dose her with amortentia via his mobile. She had taken most of her custom, which did not involve specific magical items, to muggle shops, not only to inflate the number of her contacts, but also because she was fed up with how she was treated.

Hermione had been tempted to try Polyjuice, but she had not been able to purchase boomslang skin and she would not ask Luna to do that for her, for the same reason she played into Blaise’s acting. Apparently the aurors were not that stupid, although Hermione suspected that Harry was to blame for this particular constraint. And she could hardly contest that. Buying potions supplies was not something she needed for her job.

She balled her fists, frustrated. It did not help that Harry and Ron still had that maddening mixture of condescending, pity and false patience on their faces whenever she saw them. They still talked to her as if they fully expected her to ‘come to her senses’. When Ron had owled and suggested he would adopt the baby, Hermione had slapped him the next time she chanced upon him. He kept well out of striking distance after that. It might be her pregnancy hormones, but Hermione had still difficulties to rein in her temper when she caught sight of Ron.

She had only tried to meet with Harry once on Luna’s insistence. Harry had just given her an envelope. Inside the envelope had been a note he had found in a book on elves at Hogwarts, a note she had written herself, a note he insisted should prove that Prudy had been lying or at the very least bending the truth on Draco’s behalf. Hermione had argued that Prudy as a free elf did also have a free will. That should not be that difficult to grasp! The rest of their talk hadn’t gone well, either. Hermione had tried to show Harry how she was aware of some of Draco’s less nicer traits. Surely that meant that her brain could not be befuddled by amortentia, but Harry had instead seen that as a hopeful sign. Finally, their talk had ended with Hermione coldly showing Harry the door, and a very frustrated Luna in the aftermath.

“I will come with you,” Luna told her. “Prudy as well. And your mother. You are still certain about using a Muggle hospital?”

Hermione groaned and pressed her hands to her aching back. “I don’t trust St Mungo’s.”

Luna did not comment on that but her blue eyes scrutinized her.

“Since when do you have a backache, Hermione?”

“Must be my imbalanced body,” Hermione answered. “I feel like I am pushing a watermelon in front of me, and my back has to adapt. And that hurts.”

Hermione angled at the big rubber ball her parents had bought her and sat on it. She began to rock up and down like her midwife had showed her.

Luna drew her wand. “Might be early labour pains.”

She waved her wand and nodded, when a blueish light emanated from Hermione’s womb.

Hermione stared at her friend. “You are positively frightening, Luna. How could you know, backpains could point to labour.”

Luna opened her mouth and said something, but what felt like a real stab in her back, left Hermione gasping for breath and the name of whatever little beings were responsible for detecting labour pains was lost to her.

“Ouch”, she said.

“Breathe, Hermione.” Luna cast a charm around her protruding belly that spread comfortable warmth. “Breathe deeply and calmly, don’t hold your breath.”

Hermione gritted her teeth and Luna shook her head.

“No teeth gritting, if your jaw is tense, your womb is also tense.”

“The baby’s not due before the 5th,” Hermione objected.

“Four days early is nothing, Hermione.”

Hermione felt tears springing to her eyes. “It must be the stress with the damn wizengamot.”

Luna made an unintelligible sound. “St Ninian it is, then? Shall I alert Prudy and your parents?”

Hermione felt another stab and tried to follow Luna’s advice and concentrated on breathing. She nodded.

Luna sent her _patronus_ and gave Hermione her phone.

Before she called her parents, she sent a quick text to Draco. ‘LO is impatient. Probably curious ah. Off with L to St. N. 3 cursed W denied me. WUWH. MU.’

Luna tapped Hermione’s hand with her wand. “Tell your cousin to come as well. There is a small park close to St Ninian. I might be inclined to take a walk there, once my godchild is safely on this world.”

Hermione stared at her friend. Luna had never openly admitted that she knew Draco and Hermione were in contact over the phone.

“It depends on who is on duty to watch you, obviously.”

Hermione wrote another text. ‘L sends her regards. (!). Tells you to meet her in park at St N.’

Then she called her parents.

By the time they reached the Muggle hospital, it was clear that the labour pains were for real. Luna’s hands were already red from how hard Hermione pressed them, but her friend was calm as the lake at Hogwarts on a windless day.

The aurors would not leave her alone even now, but Hermione’s father told Smith in no uncertain terms that he would stay out of the hospital. He even forced him to sit down with him on a bench. In the muggle environment, Smith could not draw his wand and glowered at Wendell.

“Look,” her father told the insufferable git. “We’re just sitting beneath the birthing room. Nobody in there right now.” Hermione almost wished she had it still in her to vomit at the slightest cue like in the early pregnancy. Oh, to ‘accidentally’ spew on Smith’s suit again!

The midwife at the hospital was very helpful as well, although Hermione barely registered her suggestions. During the first hours of her labour she tried to divert herself with potion recipes and reciting law paragraphs, but her concentration wavered about four hours in. The midwife told her that she did great progress for a first birth, but Hermione had no idea if she just wanted to encourage her. She lost all feelings for time. She barely registered that Prudy had popped in, invisible to the midwife and wove some spells, that made her feel better instantly.

“Switch off your brain, Hermione,” her mother told her finally. “Give yourself over to what your body does. You can’t solve this like a riddle. Go along with it, don’t fight it.”

“And for God’s sake, don’t grit your teeth,” the midwife said. “Groan, scream, let it out.”

By the time the labour changed into bearing-down pains, Hermione’s brain was switched off indeed. She cowered, held by the midwife and her mother. She thought she had never done anything that was so exhausting. The midwife spurred her on and a part of her brain was reminded of a coach.

“Almost done, Hermione,” someone told her. “One more push. PUSH! Work with the pains!”

The moment, her child’s head came through was a blinding pain, but it was as if her efforts had built up to this moment.

The shoulders came through with a second far less painful push and there the baby was. Hermione sagged down into the arms of the helpful women in relief.

“Hello, little one,” Luna told the wailing bundle.

Hermione barely registered that someone helped her lay down on the bed. The midwife picked up the baby, put a cloth around her and handed her to Hermione.

“It’s a girl.”

Hermione looked at her daughter through a veil of tears.

“I’ll call a doctor,” the midwife said. “You had a perineal rupture. They’ll have to stitch you up after the afterbirth. Nothing serious, though.”

Hermione barely registered that. She looked at her daughter in awe. She wiped her face of tears and her vision cleared. She laughed softly when she saw her, even though it hurt.

“Hello, Rina.” Hermione touched her daughter’s white blond fine hair, soft wisps that made a halo around her head. Her unfocused gaze met Hermione’s. She was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Prudy came to her side and put her tiny elf hand on the baby’s head and the other on Hermione’s in a gesture that looked like a blessing. A wave of joy and pleasure ran through her and Rina closed her eyes for a short moment as if she had felt that as well.

Luna came to her side, and Hermione told her baby that this was her godmother, a witch whose kindness knew no bounds. Luna cooed at Rina, a smile on her face.

Hermione felt tears creeping into her eyes again. Her mother had brought her instant camera and shot a photo. The photo that came out was not the sharpest, but Monica waved it in triumph.

“I’ll just bring this to Wendell,” she said and left the room.

The afterbirth was a waltz, and when the doctor came to stitch her up, the midwife was surprised that her rupture was much smaller when she had thought. Prudy winked at Hermione and she almost laughed again. She should not laugh. It felt like her bowels would leave her body.

Monica returned without the photo. She smiled. “Father approves.”

Hermione’s eyes filled with fresh tears. Monica had managed to circumvent the auror.

“Who is on duty?” Luna asked.

“No one I’ve ever seen before.” Monica answered. “A tall dark-haired handsome man. He seems to be very interested in his book. He barely looked up, when I handed over the photo.”

Luna smiled. “Neville. I knew I could count on him.”

Hermione’s mind was a bit slow and it took her a moment to process the information. Neville had never before volunteered to be on duty to ensure the contact ban. And considering how good of an auror he was it would be a waste of his time anyway.

“Hermione, if you want me to, I’ll take Rina and show her around, just for a bit, it’s cold after all, and you can take your time and slowly make your way to the car.”

Hermione nodded in a daze. She wondered how Luna had arranged that Neville had taken over duty. She could have done it any time in the last hours of course. She had not been in a state to notice subtle preparations of clandestine meetings.

Luna took Rina from Hermione and carefully put her in a thick blanket. She made her way to the door and talked nonsense to her all the time. Hermione wondered if the early introduction to limpiepinkies would affect her daughter.

The midwife gave her advice on how to manage the first days.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Ms. Granger-Malfoy. You can be so proud. Your mother and friend will help you, I know, but here is a number, if you need help.”

Hermione was grateful that the midwife did not mention the absence of the child’s father. She would not have known what to say.

Monica carried her stuff and Prudy held her hand on the way outside. Prudy did some magic, Hermione was sure, because she felt stronger and not so tired, although it had been morning when they had been admitted to the hospital and now it was late evening.

“In the name of all elves, I thank you, Hermione.” Prudy’s face was serious. She had stopped and Hermione had stopped beside her.

“Thank you for enduring this for our sake.”

Hermione smiled. “One could almost believe, you believe what they write in the Prophet, Prudy. But contrary to popular belief, I just want to be with my husband. You elves are not to blame.”

She had hoped to see Draco, if only from afar. But when she left the hospital, it was just her parents, Luna and Neville she saw.

“Congratulations, Hermione,” Neville said. “Your daughter is a wonder. No doubt about the paternity though. One could think you gave her that hair on purpose.” He winked.

“The cutest baby ever,” Luna agreed. “Even random strangers admired her, can you believe that?”

“Random strangers.” Hermione arched an eyebrow. She took Rina into her arms again.

“I couldn’t tell,” Neville shrugged. “I was absolutely absorbed in my book. I didn’t even hear anything that was said.”

“I didn’t know you are such an avid reader.” Hermione told him.

“Only when it is necessary. I’m on duty until tomorrow morning. Should I portkey you all to your flat?”

Hermione could have kissed him. Her eyes were filling with tears again. “Thank you, Neville. I’ll never forget what you and Luna did today.”

Neville looked at her sideways. “I just did some reading, and now I’ll produce a portkey, a small favour for my oldest friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to say really. Rina is awesome obviously.
> 
> I probably should give an explanation for the acronyms:  
> LO is impatient. Probably curious ah. Off with L to St. N. 3 cursed W denied me. WUWH. MU.
> 
> Little one is impatient. Probably curious as hell. Off with Luna to St Ninian. Thrice cursed wizenagamaot denied me. Wish you were here. Miss you.


	77. Written into their bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin uses the invisibility cloak and finds out truths he did not expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters make huge progress to unravel some of the mysteries. We will have different PoVs and I was unsure of how to best sort the chapters. I finally decided that having Colin first made the most sense.

Colin’s head was bent over his copy of dad’s notes. He had illusioned them to look like arithmancy to the eyes of others. Several of his housemates had looked at what had taken his interest, and James Potter had joked about the swot in residence who was already preparing for the next school year, but it had been delivered in an almost teasing tone. David had come to his defence, nevertheless, stating loudly how many house points Colin had already accumulated. Colin thought he overdid it and rolled his eyes, when David did not look. Richard Weasley had caught him at it, and the smallest of smiles had tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Colin switched on his phone and checked in the family group chat, if dad had answered his question.

“I can’t believe you referred to Prudy just as P. and it, dad. That’s just two letters and I thought Prudy is your friend.”

“She told you that she resented the experiments and that she did not like me at that time. I guess, I had no friends.”

“Malfoy, you had minions, not friends.”

“Thanks, Granger, supportive as always.”

“I tried for the word _scutum_. It helps at least with the pages where you experimented with the spell.”

“Dad, is it possible that you switched the code several times? After page 4 the code Colin worked out, results only in gibberish.”

“I might have used a rune-based code later on.”

“Honestly, dad, this is so paranoid. “

“We had the most powerful legilimens of the time in our house. Of course, I was paranoid.”

“Did you change the code in a regular rhythm?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. Nothing about these pages triggers my memory. I was too thorough in removing them. I made a scan of the text though. Maybe some muggle IT freak can decode the notes. Might only take them minutes, who knows?”

Mum had added one last unrelated message: “Cross your fingers for Luna and me. We’ll go occamy hunting today.”

Colin checked his chat with Ellie next.

“Oral traditions are tricky. It would be best to just listen in, because people tend to change oral traditions, maybe even unintentionally, if they know a researcher is in their midst and interested.”

“Elves know just about everything that is to know about wizards, but wizards know nothing about elves.”

“This is a common occurrence, Colin. The disadvantaged need to know every detail about their superiors or their oppressors. It might mean life or death after all. “

“That is so depressing.”

“Marie Antoinette knew nothing about the life of the peasants, but you can bet that her servants and her maids knew everything about her.”

“Why did wizards just accept the house elves situation for centuries? Why did no one really ask? “

“That is a very good question. Could there be a magical reason?”

Colin closed the lid on his phone case. Nothing new then, they only made slow progress with the decoding, and spells were of no use. Ellie had encouraged him to look at the oral traditions of the elves. He was not so sure, how her advice would be regarding his plans for the afternoon.

Prefect David came over again and encouraged him to cheer for Gryffindor in the game against Ravenclaw that was to start in about an hour.

“I’ll come and support the team, of course,” Colin said with a smile, although he had absolutely no intention of doing so. He had figured that the quidditch game would be the ideal time to put the invisibility cloak to good use.

Colin collected his notes, went to his dorm, and put them away in his trunk, securing the illusion spell. He took the surprisingly light bundle of the invisibility cloak and stuffed it in his bag. The game would begin soon, and he needed to be well hidden down in the kitchens by then. He had deduced from something Prudy had remarked some time ago, that the elves gathered during quidditch matches, when the whole school was on the quidditch grounds and they had some quiet.

Half an hour later, Colin had managed to steal into the kitchen and had made himself comfortable behind shelves that held an incredible amount of food. He hoped that his hunch of where the elves would meet was correct.

He felt bad about sneaking into a gathering that was not meant for him, but he would never learn anything from just asking questions to the elves. Not when he would have to find the right questions to ask all on his own.

Colin’s guess that the storeroom was the place of the gathering proved to be correct and he heard several cracks when elves apparated, much shuffling of little elf feet and low conversations. There were several elves unfamiliar to Colin, some even wore livery, and he realised that it was a gathering beyond the Hogwarts elves.

The elves began to hum, only very lowly, at first, but it gained more force when more elves joined. The volume and the pitch changed in a pattern that did not make sense to Colin but that nevertheless was very alluring and fascinating. It was not harmonious all the time, occasionally it was dissonant, and occasionally the humming dissolved into perfect harmony. It was almost as if a story was told, but without words. The threads of the story woven into each other and sometimes opposed to each other like the protagonists of a well-known story.

After a while, some elf or other would speak up and voice one clear word often accompanied by a gesture. It was the strangest experience Colin had ever had. He felt soothed, exhilarated, sad and exited, weary and yearning, all at the same time, until he thought he would burst. He was so overwhelmed with this mixture of feelings, that it took him a while to realise that the words the elves spoke gave hints at stories, just like pictures that were reduced to bold strokes on a white paper, where you could see what you wanted to see or what someone else wanted you to see. The dense words gave stories as old as storytelling and many variants of the same story. They were threaded into the web of the underlying humming, sometimes barely visible, sometimes standing out in a high or low pitch. Colin was mesmerized.

“Seven brothers”

“Cursed”

“Ravens”

“Sister”

“Searching”

“Sun”

“Moon”

“Silence”

“Seven years”

“Weaving Cloaks”

“Blessed”

“Reunited”

Colin thought that this could be a fairy tale he had once read in Grimm’s tales. Seven brothers who were cursed to become ravens and their sister who endured seven years of silence, weaving cloaks for her brothers, so the curse could become undone. The pictures the humming invoked in his mind certainly reminded him of the story.

“Poet”

“Singer”

“One look”

“Yearning”

“Long life”

“Death”

“Grave”

“Willow”

That must be a sad story. The humming was so low it resonated in Colin’s guts, and the word death had been a short wail. Colin pictured a couple who had only seen each other once, letting the yearning for each other flow into poetry and music, until they died after a long life, united only in their grave, marked by a weeping willow.

On and on it went, story after story, often about the undoing of curses. Colin could not have said how many. Some seemed familiar, some he could only guess at and some escaped his understanding. Why would a hero weep over an enemy finally dead? Why would a puppeteer cry over a lost limb of one of his creations? Why would someone search for his punishment?

“Wizard”

“Witch”

“Elves”

“Friends”

“Oath”

He barely registered that the humming had taken on a new hue. The harmony of the tones was almost too much to bear. It drove tears to Colin’s eyes. He thought he saw a circle of maybe nine people before his inner eye, their hands entwined, their faces raised to the stars that shone above. The stars seemed to settle onto their skin, that seemed close to blue in the moonlight.

The humming was interrupted by short wails, that cut through the melody like a blade. The next words were spoken by a voice Colin knew. Prudy’s. But it was not the voice of his friend, it sounded like a whiplash enforcing everyone’s attention.

“Betrayal”

“Curse”

“Set into stone”

“Shielded”

“Thrice cursed”

“Chains”

“Engraved into the mind”

“Forgetting”

“Laced with lies”

“Surrender”

“Written into our bones”

Before his inner eyes, the image of the circle changed. He saw some spin out of the circle, wands were raised, white-green spells hit some, spells that looked like hot burning iron only that their hue was green and not red. The image blurred and he saw elves, small elves, pointed ears and all, the spells were sinking into their skins, flashing up shortly, before they vanished. The despair that accompanied the image made Colin feel as if someone tried to tear his heart out of his breast.

The humming changed, again, the sound deeply laced with a yearning for what Colin could not have said. Prudy’s voice was not more than a whisper now, threading sentences into the humming that faded out.

“Remember.”

“Every curse carries its counter”

“So does the curse that chained us”

“The blood of the families is dwindling.”

“The chains have been loosened.”

“Conditions are met.”

“One elf free, master unwilling, one elf free, master willing.”

“The cornerstones cracked.”

“Witch and wizard breaking the rules.

“A witch betrayed.”

“Yearning endured for our sake, dawn to dusk, thirty times thirty.”

“Wait for the chisel.”

The humming had become almost inaudible now, but it was almost cheerful now, as if some burden were lifted from a person who had carried it for a long time.

“Hope.”

“Freedom.”

“Become again what we were.”

When the humming finally stopped, the elves scattered, and Colin felt as if he had not drawn breath for the entire time. His lungs ached, his eyes burned, and his heart beat slowly and heavily as if it had had to thud against a huge stone that had been placed side by side to it.

He stumbled out of the kitchen, his feet took up speed of their own accord, and before he knew what he was doing he was running, running out of the castle. He wanted to be anywhere but here, in this castle, where wizards and witches learned to do magic. Magic that could do terrible, terrible cruelties.

His vision was blurred. He only came to a halt when his foot hit a large stone, that set him tumbling to the ground, and let the invisibility cloak fly over his head. He landed on his knees and his hands. He felt like someone had tried to hammer him into the ground, and for a moment his breath stopped. When he could breathe again, he heard a strange sound, that reminded him of the elves’ wailing and it was only when he wiped his nose that he realised that it was him who was making the noise. His sobs rang in his own ears, a keen that made him sound unhinged. As if he were a madman. But he could not stop himself.

He cowered on the ground, stuffing his fist into his mouth, his teeth almost drawing blood on his knuckles, while the tears streamed down his face. This was how Uncle Neville found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really would be interested how many of you guessed that there was something on with the elves....


	78. Conditions of Dark Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is called by Neville to pick up a very distraught Colin. The cursing of the house elves is discussed.

Draco studied the instruction leaflet again and weighed the pills in his hand. He could feel a migraine coming and was pondering his options. Hermione was out of house, occamy hunting, and Monica and Wendell had gone to Scotland for a long weekend. He had promised to look after Penny Zabini, so Blaise could join the hunt as well. Penny and Meg probably could manage on their own, but to watch Robert while lying motionless on the bed would be trickier. He sighed and pressed two pills into his hand. He would grit his teeth and take the headache over the migraine. He was very glad, that today’s wedding was covered by Malcolm. The bride Marianne was nice enough, but her maid of honour Ms. ‘I cannot take a hint’ E. Jensen – -‘you can call me Ricky’ – was a pain in the ass. At least chances were high she would not hit on Malcolm.

By teatime, a dull headache had settled in and he was grumpy and not in the best mood. Meg and Penny had thrown Robert out and Draco could hardly blame them. He wished he knew why Robert was obsessed with balloons all of a sudden. He couldn’t count the times Robert had said ‘balloon’ since yesterday. He had persuaded Robert to play with marbles and they prepared a marble run. Robert was shouting with glee and Draco felt marginally better, when his phone chimed. It was Neville.

Neville was talking too fast and too loud and it did not take long before Draco was thoroughly alarmed. Apparently, Neville was at the Longbottom’s house and had Colin with him, who according to the sobs Draco heard in the background was a weeping bundle. Draco asked what the hell had happened, but Colin was not coherent.

“Did the Pott-Weasel disaster twins do anything?” Draco asked. One of these days, he would forget himself around these boys. He should have demanded of Potter to get his children in hand. The irony of the situation did not escape him.

“We had a truce since Christmas. They did nothing. I….” and then Colin stopped again.

Neville told Draco that he had sent his _patronus_ to alert Hermione at the earliest convenience, but that it had returned.

“Hermione is sleuthing with Luna and probably has put a Do-not-disturb charm on herself. I have Penny here, with Meg and Robert.”

“Why is Penny with you?”

“Blaise wanted to escort Luna on the occamy chase.”

“What?” Neville sounded worried. “Does he think it is dangerous?”

“He said something about a hunch.”

Neville did not seem to like it one bit and if he was honest, Draco did not like it either. Blaise might just want to make amends for Potter’s unusual reluctance to help Luna, but still….

“Can you apparate to ours?” Draco asked.

“I’d rather have you come over. This house is under auror protection and as long as we don’t know what exactly happened,” Neville was almost inaudible.

“Half an hour.” He told Neville. “I’ll bring all the children along.”

When he arrived at the Longbottom’s house, Colin flung himself into his arms and sudden and intense alarm flooded Draco’s mind again. Meg and Penny stood silent and worried. Robert caught some of the tension and ran at Colin hugging his leg. Colin’s voice was muffled as he talked into Draco’s blazer and he only caught a few words, something about a meeting of elves during the Quidditch match, story-telling and oral tradition. He thought he caught the words oath, betrayal and enslavement between deep and keening sobs of Colin. Meg and Penny stood at the side, their faces puzzled and worried.

After a while Colin became calmer again and Draco held him by the shoulders and disentangled himself from his son.

Colin sniffled.

“I fear I only got about half of what you said, Colin.” His heart wrenched at his son’s distress. Colin’s face scrunched again.

“I’ll tell you what I got and you just nod, o.k.?”

Colin nodded.

Draco tried to piece together what he had heard. “You took Potter’s invisibility cloak and went to a meeting of elves, and there you listened in to their stories and learned, how the elves were enslaved.” He stopped. “And it was done by horrible dark magic.”

“We betrayed them, dad. There was an oath of friendship and we betrayed them. Did you know that, dad? Did you know that, do any wizards or witches know that? Or are they just oblivious of this crime we committed against the elves?”

Draco’s mind reeled. It seemed impossible and yet the sudden dread that flooded him told him that it was true.

“They know, the elves know, they talk about it, but when wizards and witches enslaved them, they were thorough. They set silence and acceptance into their bones. That is why none of the elves could answer me, even the ones born after yours and mum’s marriage. We took their real forms, enslaved them to serve us, when we didn’t even need any servants, because we can bloody do magic, and we don’t even remember!”

Colin took shuddering breaths. Robert had begun to cry in sympathy with his brother and Draco picked him up, holding him in one arm and slowly stroking Colin’s arm with his other hand. Meg and Penny huddled closer to Neville. Heavy silence settled onto the kitchen.

“That is terrible, truly terrible.” Meg’s eyes had filled with tears, and Penny had started to sob as well.

“Did you know, dad?” Colin asked again.

Draco shook his head.

“But you are not surprised.” Colin whispered.

Draco lifted his hand to his face and rubbed both his cheeks with thumb and fingers. “I grew up in a house that held objects of dark magic. Objects I was warned about. I know a bit about how Dark Magic works.”

He drew a deep breath. “It makes sense, that the breaking of an oath could be twisted to ensure a perpetual slave-bond. Trust becomes oppression. Friendship becomes inequality. Dark magic does that. To perform it, you need to betray virtues, you must be prepared to commit a sin, for lack of a better word, and that empowers the wizard to do his dark deed, but it also has a high price. If you have done something like that, you won’t be the same person again, never. A curse like that, enslaving a whole people, would make you lose the ability to do light magic for all time. I wonder who they were and if they even survived such a powerful dark enchantment.”

“Kill someone to create a horcrux that will ensure immortality.” Neville put in.

Draco nodded.

“There must be a catch,” Neville mused. “Dark magic has always a catch, conditions that can undo the curse.”

“The crack in the cornerstones.” Colin’s face lightened up. “The elves at Nott villa showed me the crack in the cornerstone. And they talked about it as well at their meeting. ‘Every course carries its counter.’ And they said something about conditions that were met already, the old families dying out. And there were others as well.”

Colin frowned. “One elf free, master unwilling, one elf free, master willing…. A witch betrayed …. “ he stopped, deep in thought.

“Something about thirty times thirty, from dawn till dusk, yearning endured for the elves?”

Draco flinched. “What is this? A prophecy?”

Colin shook his head. “No, no, the conditions that have already been met, if I understood correctly.”

Draco felt the blood rush in his veins. Thirty times thirty. From dawn till dusk. Nine hundred days. The contact ban.

But the prospect that something might be done about the elves and their curse considerably brightened Colin’s mood.

“Maybe… Do we just need to destroy all the cornerstones?”

Draco doubted that. A deep-set curse like that would not disintegrate without a huge amount of magic.

“It is not that easy. We have been trying to do that ever since the rebellion.” said a new voice, a voice behind them.

The elf Prudy sat on the windowsill, her long ears pointing downwards.

“Prudy!”, they exclaimed. “How did you get here?”

Prudy wordlessly raised the invisibility cloak. “I followed you from Hogwarts. I sensed Colin’s distress.”

Her eyes were sad. “I wish it had not been you, Colin, who found that out. But I cannot say, I am sad, that somebody knows. And that it is somebody who cares.”

The silence that followed was heavy with the knowledge of what they had learned. Even little Robert felt that something was still amiss, although Colin had stopped crying, and the toddler was uncharacteristically silent.

“Sammael Malfoy knew, didn’t he?” Draco asked. “And he thought he would strengthen the pact for blood purity by tying it to the strongest curse he knew. The elves’ curse. But he produced a loophole. A loophole that allowed the elves to regain some of their freedom.”

“Yes he did that and he swung the scales. By trying to fasten the curse, he tipped the balance. The backlash set the undoing of the curse in motion. Served him right.” Prudy confirmed, a smug smile on her face. “The elves’ bane had been tied to the lines of the families before that, though.”

“The sacred 28”, Neville breathed. “Not so sacred then, but rather unholy.”

“Used to be 30, and some of the 28 are nearly extinct as well.” Prudy gazed intently at him, and Neville nodded, shortly.

Draco gave a short laugh, that held no mirth. “So, the one freed against the master’s will, that was Dobby, and the next one was you. Did these need to happen in the same family?”

Prudy rocked her head. “Not necessarily, but after the second condition happened in the same family… it was more likely….”

“And thirty times thirty, from dawn till dusk?”

“That as well.”

Draco swallowed. “This is why all the elves took pains to encourage Hermione when we were under the contact ban.”

Prudy tilted her head. “You know Draco, trying to ensure that a magical condition is met and having compassion is not mutually exclusive.”

Draco flushed. “We always joked that we had to do it for the elves.”

“And enough people believed that anyway and continue to believe it.” There was the faintest shadow of a smile tugging at Prudy’s lips. “It was enough to further losen the curse.”

Draco groaned. “Three, no four of the conditions have been met in the same family.”

He closed his eyes. Then his eyes snapped open again. “It would be awfully inconvenient if this family would die out, wouldn’t it, Prudy?”

Prudy looked in his eyes. “Yes, Draco?”

“So, they would have to get many children? Was this some kind of twisted logic that of all the 28 families, the conditions were met within the one family that notoriously only produced one heir?”

Prudy pursed her lips. “Well, for us elves Dobby was a real disappointment, not for himself, but we had the feeling, that our chances had deteriorated.”

“You elves, you flooded Hermione in house elf magic. She always was puzzled about all the elves fawning over her. I assume you cannot affect me.”

“It is a wonder, Hermione and you don’t have your own Quidditch team.” Draco was not sure, he appreciated Neville’s try at lewd humour. “Just five,” he added.

“Six,” Draco mumbled under his breath, before he caught himself. If he had counted right, Hermione’s period was overdue, and he would bet that she had ‘forgotten’ to buy the ‘after-potion’. He had not asked her if she had taken it, because he did not want to be paranoid and Hermione tended to go off at questions after her cycle. And the last weeks after the resurface of his notes had been, well, just happy, even though Potter had ruined one Sunday. Draco no longer wondered that Dr Church had not been available.

He looked at Neville whose eyes had widened. “Don’t ask. Don’t bloody ask.”

“Hermione got pregnant the first time, the very first time we had sex. Was that your doing, Prudy?”

Prudy looked at him her head bent to the side. “Can you blame me? For all I knew, it could have been the only chance. You do remember there was a chance you would end up in Azkaban, and I doubt you would have survived that, at that time.”

“I might not have,” he conceded.

“Yours is not the first family.” Prudy told him.

Draco sat down. He placed his face into his palm. “How many conditions did the Weasleys meet? And when?”

“The Malfoys are the third family to meet some of the conditions, and we’ve never reached a point that far. About seven hundred years ago, there were two elves freed by the Parkinsons. Three hundred years ago, just before Sammael Malfoy finalised his pact. Alfred Weasley was tricked into freeing an elf, and then the Weasley heir set free one of his elfs. His bride was a halfblood whose plans for marriage were betrayed by her best friend. They still married, but Sophie Weasley refused to endure 900 days for our sake. She laughed.”

Prudy sighed. “For a while we had great hopes in Fred and George Weasley. They were very friendly to the elves at Hogwarts and we were debating if we might approach them and ask them if they would endure separation for our sake …. Separated twins would have been very powerful. But then Dobby was freed against your father’s wishes, and the house elves got involved in the undoing of the horcruxes. We had to start anew.”

“So, Dobby freed, you freed, we married, Hermione was betrayed by her friends. That was the next time, conditions fit, and you….” Draco’s voice trailed off. He shuddered, goosebumps covered his body. He remembered how fiercely Hermione had contested the contact ban. And how it had been repealed every single time.

“We didn’t orchestrate the contact ban, Draco.” Prudy’s eyes were still glued to his face. “We just ensured that it would work in our favour. I swear we did not temper magically with the refusals to lift the ban. None of us elves would do that to Hermione. That does not mean that magic did not come into play.”

Neville put his hand on Draco’s arm. Draco felt like he would snap any moment.

Neville opened his mouth and his deep voice was calm and collected, soothing even. “I can well believe that. Once conditions are set against a dark curse, at some point it is like a cascade. The first horcrux took years, the last horcruxes were destroyed within hours.”

Draco heard his own heavy breathing. “The balance swings against the dark curse. The disenchantment gets a dynamic of its own. Almost unstoppable. Like the one time, when Hermione had been so sure, that the wizengamot would vote in our favour. And then they didn’t because three wizards were hindered by the most ridiculous circumstances. And Potter and the Weasel had a role to play, the role of the traitors. Did we just follow a script?”

Prudy snorted. “You know that this is not how it works. The feelings involved had to be genuine. If Harry Potter had not won your wand when you duelled, if you had given him your wand, he would not have been able to defeat him. Shortcuts and cheating do not work against dark curses.”

Draco shook his head. “For the fight against the horcruxes, Potter had to duel me, and for the undoing of the elves curse, he and Weasley had to hate me enough to betray Hermione.”

Prudy nodded. “As I said, Dobby being freed was a side effect of the diary horcrux destroyed, and the undoing of our curse got irrevocably entwined with the conditions of Voldemort’s defeat.”

Draco tried to wrap his head around that.

“I think, you could hardly be blamed, even if you orchestrated everything.” Colin frowned. “How long have you been enslaved, Prudy? How long?”

Prudy stroked her ears. “We don’t remember, more than a millennium is my estimation.”

Little Robert picked up the sombre mood, his face was confused and worried. In an imitation of Colin earlier, he flung himself into his father’s arms and put his chubby arms around his father’s neck and buried himself into his father’s neck.

It was a balm to Draco’s heart.

“Why did you never talk about this before, how can you talk about this now?” Colin asked Prudy.

“You ask, Colin, and I can answer.” Prudy raised her hands to her ears but stopped herself short of stroking them.

“Why did no one ever ask before?” Meg’s voice was just whisper. “Why did no one ask about elves?”

“Because we wizards are often too fixed in our opinions.” Neville’s face was as solemn as at a funeral. “It is often the muggleborns who question traditions. Your mum did and does.”

“So, the elves were cursed to silence and the wizarding folk forgot and was not interested enough to ask, because it has always been this way. And nobody tried to educate themselves on elves.” Draco’s voice sounded raspy in his ears. “Who can even answer?”

“Only free elves can do that, the ones born after your marriage. I can only answer because of another loophole.” Prudy looked at Colin expectantly.

“Another loophole?”

She rolled her eyes. “That is not how questioning around the curse’s silence works, Colin.”

Colin frowned. “You told me that there were special conditions when dad freed you.”

Prudy’s ears raised, their tips pointing at the ceiling.

“What was my last order?” Draco asked. There was a shadow of a memory. “I told you to survive.”

“That gives me considerable liberties and work arounds. Not enough though. The cornerstones still stand, and we still need the chisel to reshape our destiny.”

“What does that even mean?” Draco asked. “Is the chisel a person? …. Descending from Hermione and me.”

Prudy raised her hands. “I wish I knew. It might also be a magical artefact.”

“Do you know how your form was before?” Colin carefully touched Prudy’s shoulder. “Was it like Tolkien’s elves?”

Prudy shook her head. “I know that we spread the truth around muggles, who believe in magic and who we could talk to occasionally. But which of the many stories holds the truth, I cannot say.”

“It must have been stunning.” Colin said. “If the way you tell stories is anything to go bye, elves must have been wonderful to behold.”

Prudy inclined her head in acceptance of the compliment.

Colin drew a deep breath. “I will find a way to undo this, whatever it takes, however long I will have to search, and if it’s the last thing I do. I promise.”

The air became heavy and pressed on their lungs. Magic crackled. The promise of a wizard – meant to undo the broken promise of the wizards and witches of old. Prudy’s ears rose even higher. Her eyes became wide.

Draco’s felt as if all the blood had left his head. His head was pounding with renewed vigour. There was a moment of grave silence.

“I wish you had worded this differently.” The promise was as good as an unbreakable vow. Another pebble that could become the cascade that might sweep away the curse of the elves. Or it might fetter Colin to a daunting task.

Neville shuddered, the hackles on his arms were visibly raised. The weight of the promise had stolen Draco’s breath away. Neville without a _scutum_ must have felt it even stronger. Meg and Penny stood rigid as if they were witnesses. Even Robert was affected. He cuddled closer to Draco as if afraid.

Neville laid his hand on Colin’s shoulder. “You won’t be alone in this.”

Draco could almost feel the magic humming at the promise of another wizard. Tears pricked at his eyes. He did not know what to say. ‘Bloody Gryffindors,’ was the only thing that came to his mind and it would not express his gratitude to Neville nor his despair for Colin’s sake that mingled with pride and it would certainly not fit the graveness of the situation. He settled on hugging Colin.

“That was such a brave thing to say.” Prudy’s ears had dropped and her face was sad. “I hope you won’t come to regret it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope, that this twist was a surprise for my readers, at least for some. But if you weren't surprised, or had an inkling, feel free to gloat in the notes....


	79. Dragon Pox (September 28, 2003)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco, Blaise and Pansy meet in muggle pub to drown their sorrows...

Blaise exchanged worried looks with Pansy. Draco was a mess. She hadn’t seen him in such a state since the cursed contact ban. Hermione and Rina were infected with dragon pox and Draco feared for their life.

Pansy and Blaise had tried to calm him down and had abducted him to a muggle pub, but had only succeeded in getting a distraught drunk Draco instead of just a distraught Draco.

“Look, Draco, the medicine for dragon pox has been around since 1598. Hermione is ill, but she is not going to die, and neither is Rina. Dragon pox is easier on children under six.” Pansy said for the umpteenth time.

Draco looked as if he were about to cry in his whiskey. He fiddled with his wedding band.

“Fuck, it’s so much harder on adults, and my grandfather died of the dragon pox. And that was in 1968, long after this so-called medicine was invented.”

“Your grandfather was old,” Pansy tried to calm him.

“At least there is one advantage,” Blaise said.

Draco looked up from his glass. “I can’t see any bloody advantage.”

“Well, you haven’t had dragon pox. So, you would have to stay away from her anyway for the eight weeks of dragon pox quarantine. That’s 60 days. Just imagine Hermione getting the dragon pox next year, when the ban will be lifted. That would be so much worse.”

Draco moaned.

“And with your _scutum_ and all, you really can’t afford to contract dragon pox. Who knows, if the medicine would even have an effect on you?”

Draco shook his head. “While I was in that bloody cell, they tried to feed me _veritasserum_ and I spit it out every time.”

“So, you’re saying, that I couldn’t help Hermione in any case.” He sighed. “In a way that is oddly comforting. I still wish her parents could help her. Or that she would not refuse elves for fear of being responsible for the development of a cross species illness… ”

“Luna is with her, and Longbottom and Weaselette bring food to her doorstep.” Blaise told him.

Pansy gave a slight shake of her head that Draco did not notice. Blaise looked at her questioning.

“But Luna is only one person, and she’ll work herself blind if she looks after Hermione and Rina for eight weeks. Rina is a small babe.”

“That is not entirely true,” Blaise disagreed. “She’s a healthy baby, with just the right amount of baby fat.”

Pansy looked at him. “How do you know that?” That she needed to remind him that he should be more careful what he said around her. Some Slytherin he was.

Blaise caught himself. “You know, how Tatki and I went to Hermione together to get his house elf contract sorted? I got to know Luna then and when we happen to meet each other occasionally we talk about this and that. She has a vast knowledge on magical creatures.”

Draco only blinked twice at the expression ‘happen to meet each other’, but kept silent otherwise. Even inebriated he had himself better under control than Blaise.

“How would meeting Luna by chance give you knowledge about Rina?” Pansy shook her head. Blaise would not last a minute under auror scrutiny, at least not when it came to Luna.

“She is Rina’s godmother and takes her for a walk quite often and that’s how I know.”

At least he did not mention that Luna usually went to a muggle playground and that they would meet Draco there. They were careful about it and as far as Pansy knew, no other auror had yet realised. Pansy appreciated that her friends had not let her into that secret. They tried not to force Pansy into siding with them, if it could be helped. And she was grateful, she just knew that if it came down to it, she would be suspected of knowing.

The department had become a better place for her, since Ron Weasley had left to play professional quidditch, but it was still an uphill struggle most of the time. When Ron had left Dawlish had partnered her with Harry Potter, and it had been meant to annoy her, Pansy was sure. And the first assignments had been a pain in the ass. But after they had almost failed in an arrest when they had loudly fought about Draco, they had silently agreed on never discussing that subject again. Now they worked together surprisingly well. Pansy had to admit that Potter had superb hunches, and she was reasonably good in unearthing evidence. They were a highly successful team.

Pansy sipped at her whiskey and sighed. She placed her finger on her glass and drew circles, but stopped when it made the glass swing with a low pitched tone.

“Spit it out, Pansy,” Blaise nudged her.

“It’s just Longbottom who brings food as of this afternoon,” she finally said.

“What?” Draco was torn out of his scrutiny of the bottom of his whiskey glass. “Why?”

“Apparently, your wife had a fall out with Ginny Weasley, and since they both have a temper…. Allegedly, it was terrible, a feverish Hermione, green with dragon pox and the fiery red head opposite each other, firing hexes…. Until Luna stepped in.”

“Luna was not hurt, was she?” Blaise asked.

“No, both sides would never hurt Luna. They reined themselves in, but the damage was done.”

“But why? The Weaselette was neutral.”

“Well, only on the surface. According to Longbottom, she advised Hermione to let Ron Weasley help her, now that she is so ill, and that that would help her snap out of her amortentia condition all the sooner. And Hermione absolutely draws the line there, even if it means that she’ll have fewer people to help.”

“When her temper gets the better of her, she’s not subtle.” Draco mused.

“The understatement of the century,” Blaise chuckled.

Draco tore at his hair. “Why is she so stubborn. I certainly don’t want her to accept the Weasel’s help, but she could have gritted her teeth and tolerate Weaselette, at least until she’s better. What about Longbottom?”

Pansy felt a flush creep into her cheeks. Hopefully, the others would not see that. “Neville is far more level-headed. He never comments on the amortentia mess. When they discuss it, he just stands up and leave.” She held back from squirming at the last moment, when she realised that she had called him Neville, not Longbottom.

“And you, Pansy?” Blaise asked, seemingly oblivious, to her blunder.

Pansy shrugged. “Everyone knows where I stand in this. There is a reason I am not assigned to ensure the contact ban.”

“You could have been more subtle about this.” Blaise criticized her. “Then Draco could see Hermione all the times you are on duty.”

“Blaise, that’s nuts. Far too risky, one word of this in the wrong ear, and they probably would find some obscure paragraph in wizarding law that results in me being sent to Azkaban and Hermione’s wand snapped and Pansy sacked in disgrace.” Draco scolded him.

“It’s just….” Blaise shook his head. “I don’t know how you bear it. You haven’t seen her for such a long time, and there is still so much time left.”

“479 days to be precise. And it’s spite that keeps me going,” Draco said. “Spite and stubbornness. I don’t want them to win. We will make it through this, Hermione with her wand, the house elves all with contracts, me free and not in Azkaban. Hermione will continue to needle the wizengamot and make reforms, and most importantly we’ll live happily ever after…. And I hope all Voldemort sympathizers and all Saint Potter worshippers gnash their teeth about it as long as we live.”

Blaise and Pansy laughed at that.

“Well, you both have enough spite, that’s for sure. The aurors positively hate being assigned to Hermione. She always comes up with something to annoy them. Well, everyone but Nev… Longbottom, who is barely ever scheduled to watch her.” Pansy confided. She could have slapped herself. Must be the whiskey.

“I had thought, love comes into it as well, Draco” Blaise teased.

Draco’s fingers had found his wedding band again. “Love,” he said. “that word hardly seems to suffice. Such a small word for such a life-changing feeling. Such a small word for the rhythm that destines my life.”

“Well, that was incredibly sappy, Draco.” Blaise remarked. “Do I have your permission to use that?”

Draco’s eyes glittered for a moment. “If it helps.”

He shrugged. “I still think you should rather take action by doing something for her though than try your hand at being sappy.”

Pansy’s interest was piqued. Maybe Blaise’s interest in Luna was far more serious than she had thought, if he had sought Draco’s advice.

“It’s just that action takes me into uncharted territory, well, not action as in making a move, obviously,” Blaise said.

“It might be worth a try.” Draco’s smile was genuine, but Pansy suspected that he had ulterior motives as well.

She thought she knew where he was trying to lead Blaise.

“I have an idea,” she pronounced. “I’ll take over some shifts of Nev… Longbottom, so that he has more time to help and you, Blaise, join the quarantine and help Luna.”

Draco and Blaise both looked sharply at her. This time they definitely had noticed her slip. Pansy willed her face to stay calm and hoped that they would ascribe her flush to the alcohol.

“I could look after Rina and help Luna with that,” Blaise finally said. “I mean it can’t be that difficult to look after a babe of 10 months.”

Pansy met Draco’s eyes, that had widened a fraction. Well, if Blaise was so ignorant about childcare it served him right to be disabused. She had two younger sisters six and eight years her junior, she knew how difficult baby care could be.

Blaise shook his head. “Look at us. We’re pathetic excuses for snakes. Pining after lions.” He winked at Pansy, and Pansy knew that her friends would relentlessly tease her about her slip of tongue.

“Luna is a Ravenclaw.” Pansy tried to deflect.

“But she was practically adopted by that DA idiots. The Ravenclaws were just too narrowminded to see her brilliance.”

“Inquisitorial squad pining after DA it is then,” Draco joked.

“Oh my god, that Umbridge bitch,” Pansy remembered her well enough. She had left the Slytherins little choice in joining her ministry backed course, just like the Carrows. Name dropping the parents or older and younger sibilings. That had been an even better incentive than the lure to get back at the Gryffindors. “In hindsight all the squabble seems so ridiculous and unimportant.”

Draco smiled at her. “I thought Longbottom is with Hannah Abott, Pansy.” It was so like him to not let it pass.

“Well he certainly looks way better than as a boy,” Blaise remarked. “I cannot fault your taste, Pansy.”

Pansy glared at them.

“We all pine in different ways,” Blaise waved at the service. “Draco has a timeline, I have some hope, and Pansy is probably the most pathetic of our bunch. I think that is a good excuse as any to get drunk, before I go and quarantine myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of fluff and Slytherin interaction in between....


	80. The Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry closes the Malfoy observation.

“I have to show you something,” Harry told Ron over breakfast.

“What a coincidence. I have something for you as well.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Is this work-related, Harry? It is Saturday. It is bad enough, that you sent Baxter and Wally to Azkaban on a Saturday.”

“Not at all.” Harry answered. “No connection to work.”

“It’s another puzzle piece for Harry’s big case.” Ron said simultaneously.

Harry looked at Ron with surprise. He hoped Ron had not blundered. Ginny arched an eyebrow at them both.

“I know, I’m running Baxter ragged, but you’ve seen the list, Ginny. And the bloody dementors are a real problem.” Harry tried to calm his wife.

“Harry, I am glad that you don’t do everything yourself….” She scrutinized her husband, and Harry felt very exposed. Ginny knew him too well.

She narrowed her eyes. “You sent them together to test Wally’s loyalties.”

Harry shrugged. “I might have. It wouldn’t hurt to have one more person I can trust when it comes to the final arrest.”

“You know, I would help.”

Harry’s heart clenched. “I need you safe.”

Ginny scowled. It was an old and recurring argument. It was a good thing, that Ginny had not seen the survey he had made, the survey where he had matched every necessary arrest with a person he could trust. He had just left out Teddy and Ginny. If Ginny knew who he had practically dragged out of retirement, she would be livid. But better a livid Ginny who had survived than a dead or injured Ginny.

Ron laughed. “Harry, that is so rich. You realise that you might have been in St Mungo’s now, if Ginny had not broken up that new curse you foolishly tried on your own person.”

Harry squirmed. “That did not endanger Ginny.”

“That was not my point,” Ron told him. Somehow Ginny and Ron were in an understanding about this. The siblings exchanged a look.

“It was a big step. We now know which curse they use on the muggleborn children.”

 _Praeda_. According to Harry’s Latin – English dictionary it meant plunder, an apt name for a curse that plundered someone’s magic. Of course he could not be entirely sure, that it was the curse put on Neill and possibly on little Emma, but the curse had the same turquoise hue, that Harry had seen in Narcissa’s memories when Snape had used the spell on Malfoy, or rather on himself and Malfoy, directing the magic he plundered from himself to the utterly exhausted Malfoy.

He had almost fainted trying this out on himself. Ginny had rescued him with a _finite incantatem_. He and Ron had tried some more and had worked out, that the _Praeda_ curse could indeed be directed to boost someone else’s magic, but that it needed direction or the magic of the person plundered would just bleed out in an alarming speed. Harry still wondered, how Snape had managed to be so precise with the curse to endow Malfoy with his skill at occlumency.

“Let’s hope Pansy finds out, where and how they direct the curse.” It was a testimony to how upset Ron was about the whole business, that he actually called Harry’s second Pansy instead of ‘Parkinson’. Harry had sent his _patronus_ to Pansy immediately, and by now she should be working at finding the connection. Harry had a bad conscience. He had promised James and Richard to visit Hogwarts today, to watch them play Quidditch. But he still had one visit to make to tie up loose ends. It was unlikely that he would make it to the game.

Ginny sighed. Harry knew that she would scold him about his protectiveness again, but apparently not now.

“I’ll be off in about an hour.” Ron suddenly spoke up.

Harry saw the same question he had in Ginny’s eyes.

“I am invited to be a ‘plus one’ on a Muggle wedding.”

“What?” That was not a pleasant surprise. Harry prayed that Ron would not be attached to another Lucretia. Ginny made a face.

“’Plus one’ means I am to accompany a nice woman to a party and act as her ‘maybe date’.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Our dating days might be over Ron, but Harry and I know what ‘plus one’ means.”

Ron smiled smugly. “Believe it or not, the caterer for that wedding is Fortescue and Miller.”

“What? Ron you can’t do that!” Ginny looked like she was about to explode on her brother, all mutual understanding over Harry’s protective streak forgotten. Harry agreed. He had just made a very awkward truce with Malfoy. Ron and him getting into a fight would not be helpful, not at all. He briefly considered to throw an _Incarcerus_ on Ron.

“Malfoy won’t be there.” Ron tried to calm them. “His muggle partner is in charge of this event.”

“Who invited you?” Harry scowled.

Ron was not to be deterred from his good mood. “The bride’s maid who also happens to be the muggle detective who looked into strange and unexplained illnesses with muggle children when I asked her to.”

Harry was flabbergasted. He exchanged another look with Ginny. In Ginny’s eyes he could see the same scepticism he felt.

Ron excused himself and came back with notes in a plastic binder that looked like a thorough report.

“Dudley told you he recognised the muggle Prime minister’s intimate friend, didn’t he? So, I decided to do some real investigation instead of the sham one you put me on.”

When Harry looked up, Ron’s lips swung upward.

Harry nodded, his mind somewhat numb. He tried to process the fact that Ron had acted on his own. That he had produced something useful. Then he scolded himself. He should know better than to underestimate Ron.

Harry leafed through the report. It hit him then. “They call it Bethan’s disease. It means we’ll have to alert the muggle police as well.” He closed his eyes and groaned.

Ginny laid her hand on his shoulder. “You can alert them after you’ve tied up your own ends. I told you again and again, that you don’t need to do everything.”

Harry covered her hand with his own and pressed it.

“Well, what did you want to show me?” Ron asked. “I hope, it’s not some curse, Ginny or I need to rescue you from?”

Harry’s eyes met Ginny’s. She understood him and smiled.

“I’ll leave you to it, and will go out and train for a while,” she told them and then proceeded to call for Lily if she would join her on the broom.

Harry stood and took Ron to the observation room he had established at Grimmauld.

Ron frowned. “I thought, we had finished this? Did you continue your observation after you informed the Malfoys?”

Harry snorted. “Of course not.”

Harry led him to the mirror that stood in the corner. “We invented this after you left the department. We use it at the close of an observation. It’s inspired by the mirror of Erised.”

He activated the mirror. “It is just a short recording of what the observed person wants. We do it last, because it usually means that the observed realise that they are under scrutiny.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Harry…. You cannot be serious.”

“In this case, the observed did not notice.” Harry rounded on him. “You have to understand this, Ron. Do me a favour and finally understand this.”

A wary look entered Ron’s eyes.

“I’ve talked with Hermione three weeks ago. Her and Malfoy, they must have stood in front of this mirror every bloody morning, every bloody morning. And it was only yesterday, that we finally got a recording.”

Ron swallowed.

“Look, Ron, look closely. It’s just a few minutes. You’ll see what they see in the mirror.”

For a short moment there was fog in the mirror and then Harry and Ron could see them. Malfoy was binding his tie, while Hermione slipped on her skirt adjusting her stockings on the way. They were talking but the mirror did not transport any sound. Malfoy said something and smirked. Hermione laughed and said something in return. Malfoy turned to her and straightened one of her stray curls and put it behind her ear. Hermione looked at herself, smoothing her blouse. Behind them the door opened, and the toddler entered. Malfoy turned, and the boy came running towards them.

Suddenly the boy’s face was close to the mirror, his eyes full of laughter. The room filled with balloons, colourful balloons that bobbed up and down in a strange waltz. The boy clapped his hands in joy, shouting at the balloons. The way his mouth was set, it was obvious, that he said ‘balloon’, over and over again. Hermione and Malfoy laughed at the excitement of their son, that was inexplicable to them.

Hermione coaxed her son out of the room, and Malfoy followed her after a last look on his reflection, shaking his head very shortly, when the image became blurry for the tiniest flicker of a second.

The mirror became foggy again.

“Well, looks like the little one desperately wants to play with balloons.” Ron remarked.

“This is not what I want you to understand,” Harry shouted at Ron.

“Huh, Harry, no need to get off on me.”

“You have to get it Ron, you have to finally get it.”

“What?” Ron’s face had reddened considerably, and he raised his voice. “That Hermione is happy with the ferret?”

“Yes, Ron. I don’t know why, but this is the proof. They are happy. Absurdly happy you might say, especially if you look at their situation. For three weeks, they stood in front of this mirror and…”

Ron drew a deep breath. “And this is what you wanted me to see. So, I would finally understand. Because I am too dense to get it until someone rubs it in.”

Harry sighed. “This is not about being dense, Ron. Don’t belittle yourself.”

Ron laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know Harry. I’m not stupid, but sometimes I take my time. But I understand now. You set me up to this observation for three reasons. One was to keep me preoccupied and feeling useful after my dreadful divorce, another was that I would talk about this and you would have your diversion, and the third reason was, that I would come to my senses or as you put it, that I would finally understand.”

Ron shook his head and smiled at him, fondly. “Harry, you are such an idiot. You risked your awkward truce so that I would finally get over Hermione.”

“What, why?” Harry was offended. How dare Ron question his efforts.

“Why not just tell me. You, Ginny, George, my family. You all let me persist in my delusions for years.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest. Ron raised his hand.

“No offence, Harry. I know you all probably meant well. I can picture it all too well. ‘Let’s not talk about the fact, that we all know that the amortentia was a frame. Believing that he was defeated by a bloody potion instead of love makes it easier for Ron.’”

Ron sighed. “Easy is not always the best, Harry. You indulged me instead of setting me straight.”

Harry scoffed. “Neville did not indulge you at Luna’s wedding. You could have realised it then.”

Ron weighed his head. “Point duly taken, but otherwise you all tiptoed around me. You should not have done that.”

All of a sudden, he barked a laugh, and shook his head. “Do you remember the homework planners Hermione gave us in third year?”

Harry was puzzled. “Yes?” Hermione’s presents had been surprisingly unfitting for the recipients, on occasion.

“That’s how I finally got it. I mean, I don’t remember clearly and that is good. Establishing that memory vault must be the best thing you ever did. But I remember the gist and I got it, you know. It’s not the fact that they have sex absurdly often for a married couple, it’s not that they talk about what society needs, or philosophical questions or muggle literature, or that they probably have hundreds of books. There was that one morning, when they just talked about what they had planned for the day, and Malfoy had his day organised into slots that were not longer than half an hour. That is when it hit me. That they are made for each other.”

Harry stared.

“I bet their house is as tidy as Snape’s potions ingredients cupboard.”

Harry had to laugh despite himself. “Yes, it is. You wouldn’t believe that they have children if you look at their living room. It is unbelievable. Even with Kreacher, our house is never that tidy.”

Ron raised his hand and let it drop in a gesture of regret, letting the air escape his lungs in an almost-sigh. “If I had known you would go to such lengths, I would have told you earlier. But I had to think about it first. My tremendous unwillingness to see what was there, all the time, right under my eyes. And it is so embarrassing to admit that I have been wilfully reluctant to see the truth.”

“Are you saying, there was no need to do this?” Harry was flummoxed.

“Well, that was only confirmation of what I knew before or what I should have known before.”

Harry tried to process the fact, that his little manouevre had not been necessary.

“I have to be off now, anyway, you know, that muggle wedding.”

Harry shook his head. “Just don’t get too involved too soon.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “It’s my love life, Harry. I’ll manage.”

He made to turn. “By the way, what was that flicker, just at the end. Did Malfoy see something?”

“It was too short for him to even notice, but I managed to freeze the frame.” Harry studied Ron’s face.

“He holds a wand.”

“Well, that does not come as a surprise.”

Ron left the room and Harry stared at the mirror. He activated the mirror again and looked at the couple. One more time, just to check, if it was really just the balloons.

He heard Ginny enter the room. He could feel her as a warm presence in his back.

“You won’t see anything else, Harry,” she told him. “You checked often enough. There is no other flicker.”

For a moment, he froze. “I have no idea what you mean.”

She came closer, sneaking her arm around his waist. “Oh, Harry.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “If we would do this spell on our mirror. What would you see?”

Harry swallowed. He did not dare ponder that question. He feared it.

But Ginny was unrelenting. “Would you see me, our children, Richard, and all my family, including Percy, maybe flying in our garden?”

She rubbed his back. “Or you might not see any of that, because this is what you have and what you wanted all your life, a nice family, where you belong. The respected head auror. Someone who has the ear of the minister. Someone who makes a difference.”

Harry looked at her, he could feel his throat closing in tension. He pressed his lips together, just a tiny bit, so that no words would come out by accident.

Her face was so close, a small smile just this side of sad was on her face. “I think you would see Hermione as your close friend, not necessarily with Ron, but with some amiable and utterly ordinary husband. Certainly not Draco Malfoy.”

The air he inhaled only seemed to reach the top part of his lungs.

“I would certainly love to pick her brains on this big case. I cannot help but wonder if I might have solved this, weeks ago, if she would still have my back. Some of the stuff that came up is so advanced and she just uses it, casually, to make a present for her goddaughter.”

Ginny closed her eyes and touched her forehead to his. “It’s o.k. to admit that you would want her to be your close friend just for herself, Harry. I’ve always known that you miss her.”

Harry’s eyes pricked. “I’ve lost all rights to miss her.” The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could rein himself in.

Ginny studied him. “We all believed, Draco had drugged her, love. It made too much sense. Luna was the only one who didn’t believe it. And it’s not as if Hermione did nothing wrong. She pressured you before your testimony. And she dumped Ron rather spectacularly… announcing her marriage in the middle of the courtroom.”

She reached out with her hand and stroked his unruly hair. “I honestly think that each and every one of us contributed to that mess. Yes, me included. I should never have let Hermione battle dragon pox on her own. I could have just kept my bloody mouth shut like Neville did. He just waited and observed.”

Harry smiled at her face. He could see that her lashes were wet. “As if keeping your mouth shut was ever your forte.”

“You wanted to save her from Draco. You thought he was a villain. And let’s be honest, he gave you ample reason. Remember how he insulted you in the court room? He really gave a hand at shovelling his own grave then. With his scathing tongue and his intellectual snobbery… He should never have been sorted into Slytherin. He is not really manipulative enough. Pushing buttons is not the same as elaborate scheming.”

Harry shook his head. “ _Daphne Antoinott_. That is such a Malfoy joke, mean and witty, to the point, and even funny if it’s not directed at yourself.”

Ginny smiled. “See? And you were overprotective, like you always are.” She rolled her eyes shortly, probably just to remind him that her participation in the arrest to come was not yet off the table.

“She doesn’t miss me… and she doesn’t even know the worst,” he blurted out. The words burned in his mouth.

Ginny froze. “The worst?”

He sucked his lips into his mouth and bit on them hard. He could taste the copper taste of blood.

“Snape had a cache for his memories about Malfoy, about his defection, about the Phoenix Potion. I found it, even before Rina’s birth. It was warded, and attuned to her. Snape wanted her to have it. He wanted them together, he wanted his godson to have the Gryffindor girl. And I transfigured the vial that held his memories, so that I could trick her into touching it. And then I kept it a secret. I never told anyone what I found. I hid Snape’s memories in the vault at the department.”

He could not look into Ginny’s eyes. “Even knowing that Malfoy had not lied during the trial, I still thought that he was an obsessive bastard, who had practically forced Hermione to love him. I thought he was like Snape, when he originally defected, only fighting for the light, if it would mean that he got his love. Ensuring that he got his love. And I wanted to thwart his plans and save Hermione.”

He had just blurted it out. He felt deflated, his lungs hurt, as if he had pulled his ability to breathe out of his body, or maybe it was the other way round and there had been a giant cancer ingrained into him, interwoven with his lungs. He had grown so accustomed to his guilt over the years, that he did not even feel relieved.

Silence settled on them. Ginny’s hand had fallen from where she had stroked his hair and she made no move to put it back. Harry’s heart clenched.

“That was wrong on so many levels, Harry,” Her voice was just a whisper, flat and devoid of the tenderness it usually held.

Air flooded back into Harry’s lungs in a half-sob. “I know,” he pressed out. “But I don’t know how to make amends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally it's confession time for Harry..... This chapter has been in my head for such a long time.... Originally I thought it would be chapter 20 something, and now it is chapter 80...  
> I really hope my readers will like it.... I decided to post today, though, because today is my lucky day, because it is my birthday. Just saying, not fishing for comments here, ;-).


	81. St Mungo's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny's talk is interrupted by other pressing business - auror business

They were interrupted by Lily who did not catch on the tension between her mother and father. She complained about being bored and stated that she wanted to play with Penny and the Granger girls she had met at Penny’s.

Ginny shot Harry a look that told him clearly, that the subject would be discussed further.

“Would you like playing with your cousins? Penny is ….” Ginny hesitated. She could hardly tell Lily that Penny was with the Granger-Malfoys today, because Luna was occamy hunting. “… not available today. I could drop you at Percy’s and you can play with Will.”

“Percy?” Harry asked.

“Well, I’m not sure I’m yet over George handing out portkeys to teenage Gryffindors just to filch dark artefacts from Malfoy Manor. It might be a while before I trust him with any of my children again.”

She had a point there.

“I’ll be right back.” Ginny told him. “We need to talk about this, and we’ll come up with something better than photos or phones, or even your invisibility cloak, Harry.”

She shook her head and bit her lip. If she had still the temper she had had when they were newly-weds, she probably would have told him that his attempts at amends so far had been pathetic. And that he had sabotaged himself by his observation. And for nothing, because Ron had worked it out all on his own.

Ginny proceeded to their floo, and Harry followed her, lost.

He needed to think about what he would do if the arrest would not produce new evidence on the man, he suspected to have framed Malfoy. But he just sat down on the sofa and drew littles circles on the armrests. His thoughts whirled in his head. The case, his talk with Hermione and Malfoy, the mind-blowing revelation that Ron had finally gotten over Hermione, that Ginny knew how much he missed Hermione. He stopped himself just shortly before the mist of his thoughts cleared.

A silver-white lynx appeared, Wally’s _patronus_.

“Boss, Baxter collapsed. Not sure, what it is. We’re in St Mungo’s.” Wally’s voice was slightly panicky.

Harry cursed. Loudly. He would have to check that. He wrote a short note to Ginny, because she had not yet returned from Percy and flood to St Mungo’s.

Wally awaited him at the reception. He had a dishevelled look about him. Harry slowly guided him to the chairs, speaking in a low voice, trying to calm the distraught youth. Harry chided himself for sending him to Azkaban. The prison clearly had been too much for him. Although dementors had been driven off more than 12 years ago, the lingering depression was still too taxing for some, Wally apparently one of them. Harry had thought him to be of sterner stuff.

His report was somewhat rushed, and Harry had to go through the events three times before it made sense. Wally was red-faced and ashamed, because they had been separated and Baxter must have lost his _patronus_. Wally put forward as a plausible explanation that the lingering dementor’s affection had just been too much for the older man. Baxter had cried out and Wally had found him, unconscious, cold, and clammy and had apparated them back. They had not found anything about an anchor for the dementors.

Harry smiled at the young man and patted him on his shoulder. “Did you eat chocolate, Wally?”

“I had a little,” Wally hung his head.

“Get some more, you look like you could use some more. What did the healers say?”

“They treat him for being exposed to dementors on my suggestion,” Wally said. “I’m not sure if this is correct though. I mean there are no more dementors in Azkaban.”

The young man shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about how the place must have been twenty years ago.”

“There is a reason, I put an end to dementors in Azkaban.” Harry studied the young man. “But I guess it will be fifty years at least until all the lingering effects will have vanished.”

“Did you manage to hold on to your own _patronus_?” he asked Wally.

The youth nodded.

“That was no small feat under the circumstance,” Harry praised him. “I think you should call it a day and go home.”

“I’m sorry, I let you down, boss.”

Harry shook his head. “You haven’t let me down. It’s protocol to retreat if an auror’s life is in danger.”

He patted the young man again.

“Baxter is a good man.” Wally said. He looked at his feet.

Harry’s skin was covered in goosebumps, his senses alert.

Harry nodded and peered into Wally’s face thoughtfully. “It was awfully nice of Baxter to go against the rules and face the lower dungeons alone for the sake of a young colleague overwhelmed by Azkaban, wouldn’t you say?”

It was just a hunch. A hunch he would not have had twenty years ago before he knew what betrayal was.

Wally looked up, his face flushed. “O Merlin, boss, how did you guess that?”

“Your bad conscience gave you away, Wally.” Harry moved the corners of his mouth upwards, although he did not feel like smiling at all.

He stood. “I’ll guess we let Baxter recover. He should be bright as sunshine by tomorrow. I’ll assign more aurors to the next team that dares the bowels of Azkaban.”

Wally hung his head and Harry patted him again, concentrating on the act of the benevolent older man who understood that young people made mistakes.

They both left the hospital and Harry made sure, Wally saw him disapparating.

He counted to thousand and then apparated again to another entrance to St. Mungo’s. He cursed the fact that he had loaned his invisibility cloak to Colin Malfoy and threw a strong disillusionment charm on himself. He checked the reception desk, when it was unsupervised, found out where Baxter was stationed and went to find him.

Before he entered, he stopped the disillusionment and checked with a _homenium revelio_ if the patient was alone.

Baxter was sitting in a chair just at the window, a box of chocolates on the table, seemingly untouched. But he was staring, his eyes following some sparrows on the windowsill, a silly smile on his lips. He did not look like someone affected by dementors.

Harry raised his wand.

“ _Clarus_.” That was the standard spell against a _confundus_ charm.

Baxter’s eyes focussed on him, proving that his hunch had been correct.

“Oh,” he said. “Hello Boss!”

Harry sat down, his heart heavy. He had tested Wally, and Wally had failed the test, spectacularly.

“What happened?”

“I lost Wally.”

Harry did not voice his suspicion that Wally had lost Baxter on purpose. He had known the young man had lied when he had grabbed on Harry’s explanation. There was no way that Baxter would ever go against protocol.

Baxter shuddered. “Azkaban is still so terrible.”

Baxter’s eyes clouded again, his eyes wandering, the smile creeping back on his face.

Harry cursed and cast the _clarus_ again.

“Oh,” Baxter said. “Hello Boss!”

Harry’s mood plummeted. A perpetual _confundus_. Baxter did not deserve that. He must have found out something important.

Time to test something new. Harry steeled himself. This would be straining.

“ _Scutum_.”

Containing the spell and the anti-spell within a scutum worked and Baxter was coherent. Fortunately, Baxter was capable to stick to important information and told everything in a clipped voice. He had ‘lost’ Wally in the lower unoccupied dungeons of Azkaban. He had decided to continue and had worked his way deeper and deeper into the old prison, his _patronus_ alert, throwing flowers whose shrivelling led his way.

Baxter was resourceful when it came to ideas after all.

“You were right, boss,” Baxter concluded. “There is something, I suspect is an anchor deep in the bowels of the island. But we won’t be able to destroy it. There is a _scutum_ on it.”

Harry held on to the _scutum_ that shielded Baxter with dogged determination, massaging the wrist of his wand hand. The question of how a _scutum_ was on the anchor in Azkaban, when the spell supposedly was only invented a little more than twenty years ago would have to wait. It fit into one of Harry’s ideas though.

“What happened then?”

“Wally had found me after all, and then something hit me, squishy, but if there was any liquid in it, it evaporated immediately. Everything is blurry after that. I lost my _patronus_ then.”

That damn carrier again. Harry could have screamed in frustration. He had to let go of the _scutum_. When it vanished, Baxter’s alertness vanished as well. He recognised Harry, but babbled about some cases that had been closed years ago. Harry went along, urging Baxter to eat some chocolate.

Before he left, he promised Baxter that he would find that carrier and that he would find a way to remove the perpetual spells. Baxter smiled vaguely at him, congratulating Harry on having solved the Hunter case. Harry told him, that the analysis he had run on the cursed sapphire had been fundamental for solving the case, which made Baxter beam.

***

Back at Grimmauld, Ginny awaited him. She was fuming.

“I am going to hex you with the bogey bat hex from here to the arctic, Harry James Potter.”

“Why?”

“Why, the man asks why? Percy told me, that you recruited McGonagall for your planned arrest. McGonagall! She’s incredibly old, Harry.”

“She’s Order. She’s still sharp as a knife. And I paired her with Ron.” Harry had paired everyone he trusted, just in case. Only Neville, Pansy and himself would go alone. “Percy was not supposed to say anything. This is top secret,” he growled.

Ginny let out a scream of frustration, that pierced Harry’s ears.

She drew a deep breath, and pressed her hands together. There was silence for several minutes.

“Harry”. Her voice was low and calm, and it frightened Harry more than her screaming. It held a tinge of disappointment.

“You are such an idiot. I refuse, I absolutely refuse to sit safe at home during the biggest crisis since Voldemort.”

“I can’t do that, Ginny.” Harry said, almost choking from his own words. “I can’t concentrate when you are not safe. If I fear for you, I am an absolute rubbish wizard.”

“Even though you just lost another person you can trust?”

Harry swallowed.

Ginny waved the note he had left when he had gone to St Mungo’s. “That means Wally is compromised, doesn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “And Baxter is out. He was hit by a perpetual _confundus_.”

Ginny narrowed her eyes. “And what exactly did you plan to do about that?”

Harry studied his hands and mumbled something under his breath.

“Louder, Harry James Potter. Don’t be afraid to voice your crack-brained idea.”

“I was thinking about asking Professor Greengrass from Hogwarts. She seems to be reliable.”

Ginny came closer. “She seems to be reliable…. Her father is involved, Harry.”

“So what? Some of your removed Prewett cousins are involved as well. And she fought against her father in court!”

She stuck out her index finger and poked him. “And none of us Weasleys on your wonderful survey will be arresting Helena Prewett. So, let my arrest Greengrass.”

She had found the survey. Harry cursed himself. Harry took a shuddering breath under her scrutinizing eyes. “I know you’re right about this Ginny, but I can’t. I can’t risk becoming an absolute mess because of my fear for you.”

Ginny let out her own breath in a long sigh, deflated. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He needed her more than ever, and she looked crestfallen, desperate and sad. He wondered if she knew that his fear for her had become worse ever since he had lost Hermione. Forever. He remembered Luna’s and Blaise’s wedding, when he had understood, when it had hit him.

She fidgeted with her wedding band. Harry’s eyes were glued on her face, but she refused to look up.

She suddenly stopped. Harry was glad that her eyes finally found his, but he was not so sure about the glint in them, that had not been there a minute before.

“I think, I have the perfect solution.” Her smile was mischievous and reminded him of George. “We’ll capitalize on your fear for me. I’ll do the arrest and you’ll be my back up, guarding me the whole time. That should help you stay focused.”

“Ginny,” Harry pleaded, raising his hands, his voice high pitched.

Her eyes flashed. “I am not budging in this, Harry. Your protectiveness has done enough harm.”

He could hardly argue against that.

“Anything we can do today?” Ginny asked. “I am just in the mood to kick someone’s ass.”

Harry combed through his hair. It would probably stick out in every direction. “There is the problem, that I promised Malfoy that in putting down the conspiracy, I will chance upon evidence proving his innocence in the _amortentia_ mess. He does not care how I get it.”

“You do realise that this is the absolute minimum you can do as amends.” Ginny frowned. “Is there any chance to actually find that evidence?”

Harry shook his head. “Not bloody likely. There is a possibility that there is a connection of this conspiracy to the _amortentia_ framing, but it’s just one of my hunches. I …” He stuttered. “I just suspect who is responsible, I don’t **know**. If it comes to that I will have to frame him to fulfil my promise to Malfoy.”

Ginny weighed her head. “Which could be a retribution, or it could be the wrong that doesn’t undo another wrong. Anyone we can grill about that without attracting too much attention?”

Harry hesitated.

Ginny tapped her foot. “You have planned something for today or at the very least for tomorrow, I know it, Harry. Don’t hum and haw.”

“I had planned to make a sort of social call to Dawlish. He’s been absent from teaching at Hogwarts since Christmas. And I could blame my interest to ongoing paranoia about the DADA teacher at Hogwarts.”

“Do you suspect Dawlish?”

“I am undecided in his case. He might have been into it, or he might have been convinced just like the rest of us.”

“Off to Dawlish then,” Ginny said. “Take some _veritasserum_. That might come in handy.”

She scrutinized him. “And don’t you think for one minute, that this means I’ll let you off the hook!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the mystery plot thickens again. The stakes are high.
> 
> And Ginny is pissed....
> 
> I know many of my readers are as pissed as Ginny or more....   
> I you want to, tell me what you think, here or on tumblr @fedonciadale


	82. The playground (June 27, 2004)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets someone he did not expect on a muggle playground.

At least it was not raining. It was cold and humid, and it was not possible to discern anything beyond 50 yards perhaps. Draco looked at his mobile and opened the message by Elizabeth Bennet.

“3 p.m. UP, might take longer, Girl insists on walking OHO.”

Draco was not entirely sure, what OHO meant. UP was ‘usual place’. He would ask Hermione the next time they could talk.

If he had not been so intent on staring on his mobile, he would have spotted the man holding a copy of the Prophet earlier. His heart skipped a beat. He was not doing something illegal, but he still dreaded that the auror department would step in and actively prevent him from seeing his daughter. He would have turned on his heels in the hope that he had not been spied, but the wizard let the newspaper sink and his eyes met Draco’s. It was Neville Longbottom.

“Malfoy,” he folded he newspaper away.

Draco nodded warily. If it had been any other auror he would have texted a short ‘abort’ to Hermione immediately, but it was Longbottom, the man who had let him see his daughter, when she had been born.

“I do have some questions.” Longbottom said.

Draco frowned, wondering if this were the moment where Hermione’s last neutral Gryffindor friend would abandon her.

“I am under no obligations to answer.”

Longbottom studied him. “I should have worded that differently. I am not on duty. I am just curious.”

A tiny fraction of the tension left Draco’s body. “Well, suit yourself.”

“There is room on this bench for more than one person, Malfoy.” Longbottom said.

Draco sat down at the other end of the bench, observing the auror all the time. He flipped his mobile. He would send that text after all.

“I know that Luna will be here within in a few minutes, with her goddaughter, and I do not plan on telling anybody.”

Draco studied the other man and flipped the cover of his mobile again.

“You know, I do wonder about my colleagues. It should be obvious that this is possible and yet none of them ever followed Luna on her walks.”

“Luna wants to have time with her goddaughter. I just happen to be here. And I am under no ban regarding my daughter.”

Longbottom arched an eyebrow. “And it is just happenstance, that Hermione is sure to do something slightly suspicious at this exact time. Right now, she is probably leading Smith on a futile chase again. She loves irritating Smith.”

Draco frowned. “I haven’t seen my wife since our honeymoon. How would I know?”

Longbottom sighed. “Malfoy, let’s be clear about this. I know you meet Rina at your in-laws when she stays with them, I know, you meet Rina when Luna walks with her. I bet the moment she and Luna will come she is going to shout for ‘dad’. And somehow you know when to meet.”

Draco kept silent.

“I am not here to put a stop to this, Malfoy.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“I’ll tell you, but first, I have a question. I wonder… Why do you play this by the book? Why not just take Hermione and your daughter and live in Muggle London as muggles. You must know that this would be an option.”

Draco felt his anger rise. “I thought you are her friend. I am sure Hermione has told you why.”

Longbottom shrugged. “I know her reasons. I want to hear yours.”

“Her wand would be snapped.”

“Yes, but you would be on equal terms then, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t that be easier even?”

Draco looked at him, completely taken aback. He shook his head.

“Do you even know Hermione?” he asked pointedly.

“I’ve been her friend since our first ride on the Hogwarts train.”

“Can you honestly picture Hermione living inconspicuously? Laying low? Do you know what that would do to her?”

Longbottom listened intently, focused on Draco’s face.

Draco waved impatiently. “She probably would find a worthy cause in the muggle world. But it would mean that she was successfully driven from the wizarding world, a world she wanted to be part of since being a girl, a world she helped save. It would mean that they won, Longbottom. All the people who do not accept her. I, of all people, could not do this to her.”

He sneered in righteous anger at the auror. “I’m playing a long con, it is that what you want to hear? What good would it be, if she were with me now and would leave me in the long run? No. I am greedy. I want it all. I want Hermione happy. I want her happy with me, and I want her to do some of the reforms she has set her mind on. I want her to have a chance at that. I don’t know if she will succeed in any of this, but I know, she has to try.”

“Right now, it would be easier for her, if she was not your wife, you know that.”

“Are you trying to play a villain from a novel, Longbottom? Something along the lines of ‘If you will leave this girl alone, I’ll pay you thousands of galleons’?” He lowered his voice to imitate some slimy villain he had seen on TV.

Draco shook his head. “No, sorry, I can’t be bribed, Longbottom, and honestly I’m disappointed you tried. And it wasn’t even a very good attempt. I’d rate your effort far below that of some of the others.”

“Others?” Longbottom’s brows went up to his hairline.

Draco snorted. “You didn’t know that Gryffindors have made it their pastime to come and pester me about what a selfish bastard I am? ‘ _The elves are all sorted out, Malfoy. Time to back down_.’”

It made him seethe with anger. The only consolation was that some of them had actually tried to hex him. “Finnigan, Arthur Weasley, although I concede that he probably was dragged along by his wife, some of the younger Gryffindors. Price for most annoying goes to Percy Weasley. He thinks Hermione has singlehandedly pushed Arthur Weasley out of office.”

“I had no idea,” Longbottom mused. “And you misunderstand me. I just wanted to know your reasons, honestly, nothing more.”

Draco did not try to hide his annoyance. “Is that so difficult to understand? I love Hermione. And for some reason I am lucky enough that she reciprocates.”

He was tempted to ask Longbottom if he even knew what ‘reciprocation’ meant. He had asked Finnigan whose face had become the most satisfying red. He reined himself in biting his lip. He owed Longbottom.

“That probably used up all my luck for my entire life. But I do not want to be with her if she must sacrifice all. I have no right to demand that and it would ruin everything.”

Longbottom did not answer.

“So, I don’t know if this answer is to your satisfaction. Now, tell me, why are you here, if you are not in the line of people telling me how selfish I am?”

“There are not that many days left. How many? 200?”

“One hundred ninety-two” Draco stressed each syllable. “Too many”.

“You might be aware, that the aurors hate having a shift at Hermione’s. It’s either annoying or boring.”

Draco did not acknowledge that. He still was not sure about Longbottom and what he did not admit could not be used against him.

“So, you might be tempted to think that the aurors are getting sloppy, but I would warn you. I think as the end of the ban nears some people will renew their efforts to find anything that might point towards you and Hermione skirting the ban. And they might come to the right conclusions. Now, what Luna does is not illegal and strictly speaking it does not violate the ban. But she is the fiancée of one of your friends which might make her suspect. And I want her out of trouble.”

“Blaise told me that your Gryffindor bunch have been surprisingly welcoming. Would they suspect him?” Draco tried to keep his voice neutral. He knew that Blaise had not such a bad history with the lions like he had, but he found it strange that Potter and the Weasleys, and all the DA bunch could easily accept Blaise because he loved Luna but tried to drive him away from Hermione. Well, Blaise hadn’t been a death eater. And he hadn’t been the nemesis of Saint Potter. And many people went out of their way to indulge Luna.

“There are so many people who would love to make more trouble,” Longbottom said. “I would advise you to be extra careful in the last months.”

Draco pursed his lips. “We have adhered to the ban. I wouldn’t risk a continuation now that we are so close to the end. I have taken precautions against being framed another time. I told you. I want it all. I am a selfish bastard after all.”

“I assume that Parkinson put wards on your flat. And if your accidental meetings with your daughter come out….” Longbottom did not finish his sentence.

“Even if Pansy put wards on my flat – which she did not –, you could hardly blame me. I was framed and I wouldn’t put it beyond the Weasel to try something else.” Draco did not mention that it had been Blaise, who had warded his flat. “And I can assure you that Pansy does not know about any meetings, accidental or not.”

“Not officially, I am sure, but everyone will assume she knew.”

Draco looked at Longbottom sideways and his heart sank. The man knew how to plays his cards and Draco couldn’t even blame him. He probably should be grateful for the warning. Considering Longbottom was the Weasel’s friend that could not have been easy. “I do not want Luna or Pansy to get into trouble. I owe Luna. I cannot hope to repay her adequately, ever. And Pansy is a friend.”

It hurt so much, but he pressed it out. “So, your intent is to tell me, that I should refrain from meeting Luna and Rina by accident from now on?”

Longbottom shook his head. “No, there is no need. I will just be close from now on. So, in case somebody looks into it, I’ll be there already.”

Draco could hardly believe it. “Someone who sees you might come to the conclusion that you are on duty.”

“I would hope so.” A small smile tugged at Longbottom’s lip. “I would trust you to not do anything that invalidates that conclusion, nor to make my duty hell on earth like Hermione does for my colleagues.”

“And what will you do, if someone will get you into trouble for pretending to be on duty?”

Longbottom shrugged. “Oh, I’ll just play the ‘I’m a war hero’ card.”

Draco frowned.

“You do not believe me? That I can do that?”

Longbottom closed his eyes, not much longer than a blink, and suddenly and shockingly he held a sword in his hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ” Draco jumped up. Muggle swearing was the only adequate reaction to that. “The bloody sword of Godric bloody Gryffindor. How did you do that?”

Longbottom’s smile was smug. “The sword comes to any true Gryffindor.”

“Did you have to give me such a scare?”

Longbottom let the sword drop and it vanished.

Draco frowned. “Does that mean Potter could have just summoned the sword, when he was camping for months trying to destroy horcruxes? Could Hermione have done that? Could she do that now?”

Longbottom laughed. “Asking the important questions. I think you must have a connection already. The sword came to me at the Battle of Hogwarts. And yes, Harry could have just summoned the sword, because it had come to him when he slew the basilisk. You should have seen his face when this realisation dawned on him.”

“Well,” Draco smirked. “That is the benefit of hindsight.” Picturing Potter when he realised, he could have had it way easier was highly entertaining.

“Just one more question.” Longbottom studied him. “Do you even remember our seventh year?”

“I did not store the Carrows away, just the Phoenix Potion, but then you probably do not believe I brewed that.” Draco grimaced. “I should have buried the Carrows somewhere deep in my mind. They still give me nightmares.”

Longbottom shrugged. “Same here. Do you remember, the one time they ordered me to torture you?”

“Vaguely, why?”

“When we lay on the floor you wanted to say something, I am quite sure. You made the same face just now when you talked about Hermione loving you back.”

Draco barked a laugh. “That’s probably my ‘I refrain from voicing the comment that is on the tip of my tongue- face’.”

“A snarky comment, I suppose.” Longbottom arched his eyebrows. “What was it?”

“Longbottom, there is no point in me suppressing my sarcasm, if I tell you afterwards, what went through my head.”

“And I don’t remember clearly, anyway.” That was an outright lie. But Draco was not going to tell Longbottom that he had admired him for his bravery. “You may just assume it was insulting.”

“Aha.” Longbottom crossed his long legs and leaned back.

He picked up his Prophet. “So, from now on, I am just sitting here and reading, and you can ignore me otherwise.”

Draco spotted Luna and Rina and suddenly he understood what OHO meant. Rina was walking on her own, and it took her ridiculously long to reach the playground.

It was as Longbottom had predicted. She came to him, wobbling with each step and flung herself at him, just as she was about to fall. He swung his daughter up while she giggled and called him dad.

192 days. They would make it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some nice Neville....


	83. Bobbin lace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna and Hermione are serious about their occamy smugglers hunt.

That muggle internet thing was so interesting. Luna thought that her own mind was organised a little bit like that. Sometimes there were connections that would lead to other information and sometimes there were not.

Hermione had searched for bobbin lace and lace craft shops all over London, and in her usual structured planning had made a list in what order they could pay each of them a visit. They were disguised, because Hermione had argued that they were too well known as supporters of magical creatures. Harry had assigned Teddy Lupin to accompany them, but the metamorphmagus was in a sour mood. His mien was morose, his gait slumped, and his hair was ink black. It was obvious that he had not wanted to join them on their chase, but he would not deny his superior. Luna sincerely hoped, that the wrackspurts that danced around him were not due to Hermione being part of the search party. She was reasonably sure, that Teddy was put out because he had not been allowed to travel to Azkaban, where aurors were searching for the anchor that allowed the dementors to exist.

Blaise had joined them as well, after having dropped Penny with Draco, Meg and Robert. He had said something about being bored to death, but Luna knew it was a lie. Blaise was worried about her.

Their official quest was looking for lace to add to dresses for a costume ball. By now they had established a well-honed routine. Hermione would wander aimlessly through the shop, wandlessly searching for wards, Luna would talk to the shop assistant and ask for samples of intricate lace, while Blaise and Teddy would try to get behind the unsuspecting assistants and try their hand at picking up stray thoughts. Hermione insisted that they really should not delve into people’s minds, that it was illegal to do so, and her stern stare had even made Blaise promise to stay in line.

They had looked at so many shops that Luna begged for a pause, when they had just reached a little suburb of London, where the bobbin lace shop that was their target sat beside a pottery, and a fashion jewellery shop.

Luna opened her bag. “We all need to eat something, and I need to have a look at the patterns of occamy nests again. All this lace I saw has turned my brains into shambles.”

They ate some of the sandwiches Luna had brought. Teddy’s mood seemed to lift. Luna nodded to herself. She had known that Teddy’s hunger had been responsible for his mood at least in part. ‘Time for carbs’ as Draco always said, when he wanted to dissipate the sour mood that came when the children were hungry.

When he had finished his sandwich, Teddy even had the energy to look around.

“Funny,” he said. “That pottery over there. That came up in another case. Pansy sent me there to plant some wrapping paper with recording and tracking spells.”

Hermione’s head perked up. “You aurors really have no constraints. It should be forbidden to scatter recording objects randomly throughout the whole country.”

Teddy blushed. “It’s for a murder case.”

“People still have rights,” Hermione stated. “There should be conditions for observations like that.”

Luna exchanged a look with Blaise, and in his eyes, she could see the same fear she felt. Had the Grangers been observed? It would explain why Hermione had been angry at Teddy joining them and was nagging about the restrictions that should be set on aurors’ sleuthing. Not that Hermione **needed** any additional reason to be suspicious of aurors.

“And is this pottery suspicious?”, Hermione asked Teddy.

“It is another case, I can’t tell you,” Teddy glowered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, we’ll be extra careful, just in case.”

Blaise scoffed. “Not that any of you Gryffindors know how to be careful.”

Luna shook her head. “Love, I’m not a Gryffindor.” Blaise arched an eyebrow at her.

They went into the shop and started their usual routine. Luna had just noted a bobbin lace pattern that reminded her of occamy nests, when Hermione came to her side and began to talk about how she hoped that her miscreant of a brother would not crash the costume party which was the cue that she had detected wards with her probing.

Teddy who stood at the back of the shop assistant shortly changed his hair colour to blue, but controlled himself before the shop assistant turned to look at him. Luna bought some lace to divert suspicion and Hermione kept talking about her imaginary brother and his party crashing until they had left the shop.

Hermione informed them of her assessments of heavy warding, while Blaise confirmed that the bobbin lace patterns had an occamy nest feel to it.

“The shop assistant is a witch, I am sure. I hope she did not detect my attempt to brush her mind.” Teddy bit his lip.

“I thought, we had agreed to be careful!” Blaise scowled. “Why did you try legilimency?”

Teddy flushed. “I am good at it,” he defended himself.

“Did she occlude?” Hermione asked him.

“She might have,” Teddy admitted.

Luna patted him on his sleeve. There was no point in chiding him. Done was done.

“We’d best try this out immediately, in case she did.” she suggested.

“Shouldn’t we give this to the aurors?” Blaise asked. He sounded worried.

“Hey,” Teddy protested. “I am right here.”

“No offence, Terry, but this might need more than one auror.” Blaise let the knuckles of his hands snap. “If they are as heavily warded as Hermione says, I would like to be backed by Harry or Pansy or better even both.”

Luna shook her head. “I think, Harry’s at Azkaban today? He told me they are looking for the anchor that prevents the dissolution of the dementors.”

“Pansy is working at breaking some people free from curses, I was given to understand.” Hermione put in.

Blaise cursed under his breath.

Luna sought his gaze. “We have to get in **now**. We don’t want them to move the occamies.”

“If Teddy hadn’t done legilimency we could play this by the book.” Hermione scrunched her face.

“As an auror I can try to collect evidence, if there is a suspicion.”

“A fast break in, collect evidence, and out again.” Luna pleaded with her friend.

Hermione scoffed. “I count on you all. If it comes down to it, I was never here.” Her piercing eyes met Teddy’s and she waited until he had nodded, before she led them around a corner, where they shed their disguises and disillusioned themselves. Even through the disillusionment Luna could still see Blaise glowering at Teddy for his blunder.

“The area behind the lace shop is illusioned and warded. I suggest we do not dismantle the wards but try to creep in under a _scutum._ There is a chance after all, that the witch in the shop does not suspect anything.”

“We have to be careful not to be seen, when we pass the wards under the _scutum_. We should cast an illusion behind us, so that only the last person to pass can be detected.” Blaise might not be happy, but he would not be left out of the planning and added his personal touch.

Teddy was still in a huff, but grumbled his agreement.

They squeezed in between the bobbin lace shop and the pottery, holding hands, so that they would not lose each other. The only ward Luna disabled immediately was an anti-detection-spell ward. They needed that disabled or they would not know where to drop the _scutum_.

“Remind me to put that back in place, when we leave,” she told Blaise.

Blaise cast a shimmering illusion behind them then. “Five minutes,” he said.

Hermione pointed at a pole about fifteen yards away. “The wards end there, as far as I can say.”

Luna went first, under the _scutum_ Hermione put on her, running fast. Teddy was next, then Blaise. Finally, Blaise who was the best at casting a _scutum_ at a distance drew Hermione in. Hermione panted when she arrived at the pole, and Blaise swiped a drop of sweat from his face. Casting a _scutum_ always took its toll.

The storage building that came into view after they had passed the pole was huge.

“Merlin”, Luna breathed. They really had felignats on their side today. This must be the place where the occamies were kept.

And indeed, when they had magicked their way in, Luna was impressed by the cleverness of it all. The inside of the building reminded Luna very much of the occamy colony they had found in India. Occamies were frolicking about, clearly feeling at home, cotton strings, men-made but close to how occamies did them, crisscrossed the hall to weave intricate patterns and small occamies played, curling around the strings. The animals were trusting, they approached them curiously and Teddy was touched and in awe when the occamies curled around them, chirping happily. Hermione laughed when she was tickled by a full grown occamy, that dived into her hair.

Luna was almost distracted by the beauty of it all. She had to remind herself that these occamies were not where they were supposed to be. Blaise had already left the reverie behind and strode determinedly towards the far corners that were in shadows. Luna was sure, he wanted to get out as soon as possible.

Luna pinched Hermione in the side, and she sobered.

“Shall we put some tracking spells on the occamies?” her friend asked. “Even if they spirit them away, we could find them again.”

“Not on all, just a few,” Luna agreed.

Casting on the occamies they saw, tracking spells, iced with a Do-not-notice charm, they made their way towards where Blaise had gone. Luna called out to Teddy, but he was still enraptured. Not surprising for someone who had never seen occamies before. Even for Luna it was difficult.

“Do you think they harvest the eggs?” Hermione whispered.

Luna nodded. “With that many occamies, they can steal dozens of live eggs. Maybe up to hundreds.” The thought made her sad and goose bumps covered her back. It had become rather chilly, and she shuddered.

They had reached the far corner where Blaise had cast a _lumos_ , that did not reach far into the shadows though. Hermione reached into her bag and took out her muggle phone. She pressed on it several times, until a bright light came out of it, that pierced through the hiding spells, Blaise’s _lumos_ had not dissolved. Hermione mumbled something about them having to hurry because of a low battree. Luna remembered from her last visit to Narcissa that bats somehow had a connection to muggle electry. It was very puzzling.

In the light of Hermione’s torch, rows and rows of chests with drawers suddenly emerged and they hastily ran towards them. When Blaise opened one of the top drawers, there were small partitions in the drawer, and in each of the partitions sat something that looked like a bubble filled with a liquid. They had a turquoise-blueish hue to them and although they glittered in the light, Luna was sure, that they would be squishy. They were carefully placed in nests of soft cotton that suggested they were fragile. Most of the drawers held the same bubbles, but in one drawer they found bubbles that were shining white, with an opal hue to them.

Hermione began to shudder violently. “These are _scutum_ spells, permanent _scutum_ spells.”

“Salazar,” Blaise whispered. “You mean this is what Prudy used on Draco?”

“Occamy eggs, before they hatch, brimming with life and magic… They probably drilled a hole in the egg and then applied the curse. And then they removed the shells.”

“What do they want to do with all these spells?”

Just thinking about all these curses and spells and that they were meant to be permanent sent icy shivers down Luna’s spine.

Hermione seemed to feel the same. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms in the effort to get warm again.

“What do we do now? Take some of the drawers and retreat? Call in the aurors?” Blaise put his wand on the floor and proceeded to unhinge the drawer with the _scutum_ spells, and two others.

“Why is it so bloody cold?” Hermione’s teeth began to shatter.

“Where’s Teddy?” Luna asked.

“We need to run. Now!” Blaise’s eyes were fixed to the shadows. Apparently, the place was not without additional protection. Luna froze in fear, when the shadows parted and spewed out a dementor, first only one, then two, and then several.

Hermione was the first to cast a _patronus_ , her otter sprang to life and circled them, closely followed by Luna’s own hare.

Blaise was hindered by the drawers and balanced them on one arm and reached for his wand. His face became ashen, when one of the turquoise bubbles fell out and missed him only by inches. Luna cried out in fear and sent her hare aggressively against the dementors. Finally, Blaise was able to pick up his wand, his cobra raised her head, her shield in place, striking at the dementors. The three shining _patronuses_ circled them as they retreated.

“Teddy!” Luna called out. “Teddy!”

They retreated step by step. The dementors seemed to multiply, probing at the tight circle, their protectors drew around them.

“Something we did must have triggered the dementors.” Luna could not help herself. She voiced her thoughts out loud. “They can’t be here regularly. Occamies would not like dementors.”

“Or the witch in the shop alerted them. I don’t believe they are here by accident. They are here to deal with intruders.” Hermione’s breath was a mist before her face.

Blaise’s exasperated grunt clearly told them both that there would be time to theorize later.

Teddy was still enraptured by the occamies, even though their happy chirping had stopped, and their frolicking was subdued by the heavy presence of the dementors. Luna called out again, loudly, to get his attention. Three dementors separated from the horde that closed in on them and edged closer to Teddy who had a small occamy on his hand and another in his hair. His hair had adjusted to the rainbow hues as the occamies’ feathers.

Hermione’s otter came just in time, almost knocking Teddy over. Blaise shouted and his cobra stretched to make a shiny circle around the three of them. Luna’s hare hopped to close the gap.

“Teddy, get here, into our circle.” Luna called.

Teddy ran, his eyes wide. “There are so many,” he panted.

“We have to leave”, Blaise pressed out.

“Get past the wards, then apparate to the Longbottoms. Their house has auror protection wards.” Hermione’s voice was rough. Luna saw that her hair had escaped its ties.

“Why not apparate immediately?” Teddy asked.

“There are anti-apparition wards, and though we might break through them, **that** will certainly alert the smugglers. And for the sake of Merlin, conjure your _patronus_ , Teddy.”

“They are in on us anyway,” Teddy argued.

Luna shook her head. “I doubt it. I think we triggered the dementors in that corner. There probably is an anchor.”

Teddy was so nervous that he only managed a non-corporal _patronus_ and the dementors pressed in. Luna tried to breathe in calmly and concentrated on the limpiepinkies that connected her to Blaise. Her hare glittered with an extra shine and she could open a gap in the mass of dementors that allowed them to reach the pole.

Their retreat through the wards was a veritable nightmare. Teddy almost balked at Hermione ordering him around, but Blaise told him in no uncertain terms, that Hermione was the strategist. Teddy went first under the _scutum_ cast by Hermione while Blaise stretched his cobra again. Luna was next, and during her short run under the _scutum_ she felt the cold of the dementors reaching out to her heart, flooding her brain with memories of her schooltime before her fourth year, before she had met Harry and the DA. She almost fainted with relief that the wards were also meant to keep the dementors in. She had to concentrate hard to conjure her hare again, while Blaise made a beeline for them. Blaise’s face obtained a greyish hue, when one of the white _scutum_ carriers splashed out of the drawer. Now Hermione stood alone at the pole her otter still on guard. Blaise exchanged a look with Luna, and they came to an understanding.

“Prepare for apparition, Teddy,” she said as Blaise cast the _scutum_ on Hermione and she sent her hare to protect Hermione. Luna simultaneously cast the anti-detection ward again, waving her wand fervently. As soon as Hermione had reached them, Luna took her hand and their vision whirled as they apparated to Pansy’s and Neville’s house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope you all like this reveal....
> 
> Originally I did not plan on Blaise being part of this, but he just looked me in the eye and asked me if I were seriously thinking that he would not come along and protect Luna....
> 
> Sometimes the characters just have a life of their own....


	84. Bethan's disease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy tries to find what happens with the magic that is plundered from the muggleborns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> riane_b13 persuaded me to do a quick round up, so that everyone gets an update what we currently know in regard to the muggleborn case.
> 
> Little figurines with rubber stoppers (with a goblin silver core) move if a magical person touches them and an alert is sent to someone using that person's magical signature.
> 
> Harry has found the curse that steals magic, the praeda curse.
> 
> Ron's friend/girlfriend, a muggle detective searched in the data of the National Health Service and alarmingly many muggleborns are affected by an illness the muggles call Bethan's disease.
> 
> Harry invented a method to extract a constellation/pattern that shows the magical signature of the person who enchanted the item.
> 
> Luna, Hermione, Blaise and Terry found the carriers for the perpetual spells, occamy eggs minus the shells. As it happens, that is exactly the same carrier that Snape used to encase a scutum spell that was used on Draco after the battle of Hogwarts.
> 
> And just to be clear: Harry was the person who found Snape's memories and decided to withhold this evidence (let's not go into detail), but they are not currently in his possession, because they were stolen from the memory vault in the auror department. (it's in the chapter 'The Figurine')
> 
> So, I hope that helps to stay on track!

Pansy was sitting in the living room of the Northams. She had decided that there was no way she would get the information she needed while still playing muggle doctor.

The couple stared at the teacup she had levitated to demonstrate that magic was real.

“Emma was cursed, our daughter was cursed, like…. In a fairy tale.”

Pansy nodded.

“Your daughter had magic, real magic. She was hit with a curse that stole her magic from her. She died because her magic was an integral part of her. They stole it, and with her magic her life force left her. As if she was slowly bleeding to death.”

Ms. Northam cried.

“I am so sorry.” It hurt to see the mother’s pain. “We do everything to bring her murderers to justice.”

“So, you’re magical police?” Mr Northam asked. “Can I see your badge?”

Pansy blinked. “I don’t have a … badge. I can show you my uniform if that helps. But I mostly work undercover.”

Mr Northam nodded, and Pansy transfigured her muggle clothing to auror robes and back again.

“Do you work with the police? I mean our police?”

“Only very occasionally,” Pansy said. “Although in this case there are many connections to your world.”

“Why only tell us now?” Mr Northam wanted to know.

“Because when Harry and I spoke to you in February we were very much in the dark. And we had no idea about the dimensions of the case. We usually do not break the statute of secrecy. I shouldn’t do that even now, but we need answers.”

Mrs. Northam sniffled. “Ask.”

“The curse weakens the attacked very quickly if it is cast randomly. If it is directed in such a way, that another person receives the magic the curse works much slower, and I suspect it could work for years if the connection is carefully done. We suspect that there must be something that works as a syphon.”

Pansy had tried several angles with her fellow auror Sylvia, and they had come to the conclusion that it needed more than wand work, especially since there had been no wand work near any of the children.

“I thought about this. Since the curse weakens the attacked so fast, I suspect that there must be some item that made Emma feel better. Something that she held on to. A favourite toy, perhaps.”

Pansy studied the photograph of little Emma that sat on the shelf next to the little owl figurine or rather the copy she had made the last time. Emma’s smile still cut at Pansy’s heart. The sun was dancing in her hair.

It hit her then.

“Her bracelet.”

Pansy could have hit herself. Her godson had a ring that was attuned to Hermione’s necklace for emergencies. Rina, Lizzie and Meg had bracelets. It worked with their magical signatures. She could have thought about that sooner.

“Oh that!” Mr Northam said. “That was just some costume jewellery. There was that stand at the fair, where they helped children make their own stuff with silver wire. Where was that again, honey?”

“Emma was so proud, that she managed and that it looked nice.” Mrs Northam agreed, but she couldn’t remember the name of the fair either.

“Was Emma attached to the bracelet?”

The couple nodded slowly. “She wouldn’t even take it off in the shower. Said it protected her, that she felt better with it.”

“That must have been the syphon. Do you still have it?”

“I’ll fetch it,” Mrs Northam stood and went upstairs.

“May I use your telephone?” Pansy asked. Mr Northam looked at her as if she were a dumb troll.

“You don’t have a phone?”

“We communicate in other ways.” She really would need a phone. Thank Merlin she knew Dudley’s number by heart. She typed it into Mr Northam’s phone.

Harry’s cousin picked up the phone at the third ring.

“Hi Dudley, Pansy here. Are you free? I might have an idea. I have to check with Neill.”

They agreed that Pansy could come immediately.

Mrs Northam returned and shook her head.

“It’s gone. I don’t understand.”

Pansy cursed. “They did away with the evidence.”

“But nobody entered our house”, Mr Northam protested.

“You wouldn’t have realised. That was a mistake. They should have neutralised it, instead of doing away with it.”

It was possible to neutralize enchanted items, even goblin silver. Horace Slughorn had invented a potion that made that possible. It took time though and maybe they had intended to return the bracelet after it had been cleaned of magical residues. Still, it was goblin silver and that would have been suspicious.

Pansy shook her head. Such a dumb mistake. They should have faked a break-in. Another opportunity to get evidence. Perhaps.

“Where did you keep the bracelet?”

Mrs Northam took her to Emma’s old room and Pansy searched the room for magical signatures. She used the new spell Harry had invented and soon she had produced a paper with gold-yellow dots. It looked like the pattern that had they had detracted from one of the stoppers.

“Got you,” Pansy said.

“Is that like fingerprints?” Mrs Northam asked staring at the paper. “Magical fingerprints? These people have been in my house.”

“I’m afraid so. But we’re one step closer to getting them.

***

“The doctor diagnosed this as Bethan’s disease.” Dudley told her.

“Bethan’s disease.” Pansy looked at Dudley’s device, the small thing that could be opened like a book, that was run with electrity or whatever and worked a little bit like the phone Neville had taken a liking to. Only it was possible to apply letters directly into the machine. Dudley’s fingers flew over the machine.

“Look here, it’s even in Wikipedia.” Dudley pointed at the screen. He read out loudly. “Bethan’s disease was discovered in the UK in 2013. Its main symptoms are fatigue, listlessness and a deterioration of health in general leading to immunity problems. In some cases, the brain seems to be affected leading to bouts of hallucinations. It befalls children between five and ten and does not respond to standard immunology boosters. As of now, mortality seems to be low, but a remedy has not yet been found.”

Pansy bent over Dudley’s machine. “This article is a stump.”

“Yes, that means it’s not yet considered to give sufficient information, but that doesn’t mean that the information it gives is false. Neill might have that illness. That it is real?”

“Dudley, magic and curses are also real.”

Dudley flushed. “Sorry, I just…”

“Who is this Bethan who supposedly found this illness?” Pansy asked.

Dudley tapped on the screen of his device, on the name Bethan. The image on the screen changed.

 _Bethan, Galw (* 9.8.1973-), male, doctor, … This article is a stump_.

Dudley frowned. “What name is Galw?”

Pansy scoffed. “These imbeciles. They don’t even have imagination enough to invent a name.”

“Bethan, Galw. It’s Welsh. Beth-yn-galw. That roughly translates as ‘how to call this thingy?’”

“How do you know that?”

“My parents live in Wales.”

“So, this is a sham.” Dudley pointed at the screen.

Pansy nodded. “And I cannot stress enough how much it worries me, that it seems to occur often enough to earn a name in the muggle world however imaginary.”

Dudley hung his head. “I had hoped this could be something I understand.”

Pansy laid her hand on his arm. “Remember. We don’t understand either. But at least I know what curse it is.”

She asked Neill about the things that were constantly around him and quickly identified his watch as the syphoning piece. It looked like a plastic muggle watch, but when Pansy ran an analysis, she discovered a core of goblin silver mixed with what might be regular silver.

Neill confirmed that he barely took of the watch, because he felt better when it touched his skin. It was a watertight watch, so he even took it with him into the shower.

Pansy explained to him, that the watch constrained the flow of magic from his body and that this would indeed mean that the stress on him would be less.

Neill was relieved that he had not imagined this.

Pansy asked him to concentrate on the connection that they now knew was there. If they were lucky, he could give them clues.

“Sometimes I dream of a boy, dark-haired, about my age. His mother strokes his hair, and his father lets him horsey-ride although he should be too big by now.” Neill closed his eyes.

“A boy, are you sure?” Her thoughts whirled. “Does he use magic? Or does he use **your** magic?”

Neill opened his eyes again. They were wide and frightened. “I think, he does. But I’m not sure, he knows about me.” His voice was a small whisper.

“We have to go to my home. I need to see Neville about this.” The school scroll. The school scroll had not failed, after all.

“Could you come with me, Dudley? Neill? It might be a good idea to try to cut the connection and remove the curse in a magical environment anyway.”

They apparated directly to Neville’s and her house.

Pansy almost toppled right over Blaise before she could balance herself.

Blaise let out a string of curses. “Be bloody careful with these things. I don’t want to get hit by any of these.”

He held something that looked like drawers and in it were oval bubbles in different hues, some of them in the turquoise shade Pansy had come to identify with the _praeda_ curse.

Why was the house so full? What did Draco do here? Hermione? Meg and Robert? And Colin? Why was Colin here?

Pansy took a random hand and picked herself up. It was Teddy’s.

“I found the carrier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not every riddle solved... but we get there!
> 
> Just published a one shot with art by the lovely ernestin3. Check up 'Tylwyth Teg' and the Mad Frankenstein Fest 2020 with 20 one shots!


	85. Teatime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny visit Dawlish and try to connect the current case with the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short recap on where we stand with the mystery of the attack on muggleborn children:
> 
> Little figurines with rubber stoppers (with a goblin silver core) move if a magical person touches them and an alert is sent to someone using that person's magical signature.
> 
> Harry has found the curse that steals magic, the praeda curse.
> 
> Ron's friend/girlfriend, a muggle detective searched in the data of the National Health Service and alarmingly many muggleborns are affected by an illness the muggles call Bethan's disease.
> 
> Harry invented a method to extract a constellation/pattern that shows the magical signature of the person who enchanted the item.
> 
> Luna, Hermione, Blaise and Terry found the carriers for the perpetual spells, occamy eggs minus the shells. As it happens, that is exactly the same carrier that Snape used to encase a scutum spell that was used on Draco after the battle of Hogwarts.
> 
> Pansy found out that the praeda spell is slowed by using items (bracelets, watches) with goblin silver and the magic is syphoned to other persons. She found evidence that some of the bad guys tried to cover their trails.

When they approached his house, Dawlish opened the door himself. He did not look ill at all. He looked like a man who had had plenty of exercise in his garden. For a moment, his face lit up, when he saw Harry and he greeted him and Ginny with an enthusiasm that was in Harry’s opinion quite uncalled-for.

Dawlish offered them tea and chatted away merrily, showing off his flower beds, explaining in detail how he handled his dahlias. The dahlias were beautiful specimen indeed and after Ginny had praised them, Dawlish presented her with a colourful bouquet which Ginny accepted with grace.

All of a sudden Dawlish scowled at Harry. “Took you long enough to come and visit me.”

Harry was taken aback. It was not as if he and Dawlish were good friends. They had never been close and when Harry had taken over as head auror he had suffered through long-winded explanations how to do his job, even after Dawlish had gone to Hogwarts. Harry had borne them with patience caused by his fervent wish that listening to the man would at some point let the flood of advices drain naturally.

Dawlish smiled again, as if Harry and Ginny were his long-lost children. “But now, you are here.”

They enquired after his health and he assured them that he felt splendid. Harry did his best to not sound too surprised.

“I just had enough of teaching” Dawlish shrugged.

“Headmaster Flitwick thinks you’re ill,” Ginny told him.

“He must have misunderstood my letters,” Dawlish informed them.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a quick look. Dawlish was a walking inconsistency.

Their host summoned cutlery and cups with several waves of his wand and set the table. The tableware was much more fanciful than Harry would have expected in a bachelor’s household. There were even tiny porcelain animals that held the napkins down.

Harry picked up a napkin and took of his glasses. He drew his wand and spoke a cleaning spell that would get rid of the occasional lash and drops on the glass. He moved his face close to the table, blinking rapidly and took the opportunity to study the porcelain animals through squinted eyes. They were just close enough that he could see that they were intricate figurines, detailed, and they looked as if it were ready to spring to life. Harry felt a shudder run down his spine as if someone had slipped a piece of ice down his shirt.

He tapped on Ginny’s knee and Ginny began to talk about teaching. Dawlish’s mood became sour and he complained about bratty teenagers, sassy children and young adults who thought they knew all. Harry wondered why Dawlish had ever gone into teaching.

Ginny entered a lively discussion with Dawlish about how to treat teenagers and in the heat of the argument she hit Dawlish’s teacup and it went flying. She made a big fuss about it, jumped up and Harry was hidden from Dawlish’s sight for a short moment.

He picked up the figurines with his napkin and removed the stoppers.

After Ginny had done a quick _reparo_ on the teacup, Dawlish had refilled the cup, and they settled down again.

“There is something I wanted to ask you, about a case,” Harry finally said. “I would like to hear your opinion.”

“And here, I though you wanted to visit an old sick man,” Dawlish shook his head ruefully, smiling.

“You just told us you are not ill.” Ginny frowned.

Dawlish shrugged. “Did I say that? You must have misheard. I haven’t been well for ages.”

Harry’s danger sense flared. He suspected Dawlish had been hit by something. A _confundus_?

“There are attacks on Muggleborn children,” Harry told him. He studied Dawlish face, trying to weigh his reactions.

“I heard about that,” Dawlish nodded.

Harry moved the corners of his mouth. “Isn’t that funny. Because I swore my team to secrecy.”

“You know how it is.” Dawlish shrugged. “There are always people who talk.”

“Not about that,” Harry insisted. Very few people knew about this and Harry was reasonably certain they would keep their mouth shut.

“I got the impression that you suspect Malfoy of something. There was that article in the Prophet. Although they were very vague and didn’t say anything about muggleborns.”

Harry’s lips felt frozen. “You know that the Prophet is rubbish more often than not.”

“Who told you?” His eyes bore into Dawlish’s. “About the attacks on muggleborns? I need to know.”

Dawlish evaded an answer. “I’m not going to tell you.”

Harry gave a tiny nod. “You should though. I should know who spreads tittle-tattle.”

Suddenly, Dawlish face contorted. “I can’t tell you.” His voice was a rasp.

Harry frowned and exchanged a look with Ginny. Her face became horror stricken when Dawlish’s whole body began to spasm.

Dawlish reached for one of the porcelain figures and pressed it hard.

“That won’t help,” Harry told him and opened his napkin, to show him the stoppers.

Dawlish’s eyes widened and he began to stutter unintelligibly. He stood up, drawing his wand in a fluid motion, but it did not stay in his fingers for more than a second. It flew safely in Harry’s hands at his silently evoked disarming spell.

Harry pocketed Dawlish’s wand and threw a chaining spell at Dawlish.

“Why does it have no effect?” Ginny wanted to know. “I put the whole vial in his tea. He should be singing like a canary.”

Harry pressed his lips together and adjusted his glasses.

“He must be under the _imperius._ ”

Ginny was dismayed.

“ _Devinculo_.” Harry fired the standard spell against _imperius_ at Dawlish.

The spasms stopped.

Dawlish sank down.

“Who told you about the Muggleborn case?” Harry asked.

Dawlish cried. “Can’t, not allowed.” His voice was so low that Harry barely could make out the words.

“ _Finite incantatem_.” Ginny tried it with the standard undoing spell.

Dawlish shook his head frantically. The spasms began again.

“He was hit with a perpetual.” Harry cursed. “The _veritasserum_ cannot overcome that.”

First he needed to relieve Dawlish of the stress. “O.k. Dawlish,” he said. “You don’t need to tell me about who informed you.”

Dawlish let out a shuddering sigh. The spasms stopped.

“Can we ask him other questions? Questions he might be able to answer?” Ginny’s face was full of pity.

“We’ll try that. Be prepared to cast a _scutum_ when I’ll ask you to.”

Harry tried to calm his breathing. These people really were ahead of him.

“Look, Dawlish. I’ll try to do this as painless as possible, but we desperately need information. I’ll tell you what I suspect, and you just listen. That is not against your orders, is it?”

Dawlish jerked his head. Harry hoped that meant agreement.

“At the end, I’ll cast the counter curse and Ginny will contain this under a _scutum_. I know this works. Then you can confirm or reject my theories.”

“I am sorry, that I did not realize that you wanted to alert me by calling in sick.” Harry was sure that that was at the heart of Dawlish’s erratic behaviour.

“You are here now,” Dawlish pressed out.

Now, this would be painful. Suddenly, Harry was glad that this would not come as a surprise for Ginny. He closed his eyes.

“Let’s revisit the Malfoy trial. You were angry that Malfoy was not sent to Azkaban.”

“Me, and you, Weasley, and quite a few others.” Dawlish remarked.

“I don’t think you were angry enough to do anything about it, but you agreed to let someone else plant that cauldron at Malfoy’s flat, a cauldron that held residues of _amortentia_ , as obligingly analysed by Slughorn, a version brewed without any magic. Or maybe you just overlooked the evidence that it might have been planted.”

“I didn’t dig into it. I accepted the evidence on face value.” Dawlish clarified. Harry thought it interesting, that he could do that. The _imperius_ probably would only give him trouble with the current crime.

“Only it was not brewed according to the recipe in the manuscript at the Department of Mysteries, the one that takes a year to brew. It was Vinicius’ version that takes three weeks.”

Harry inhaled slowly. “Slughorn just added some ginger, so that he could claim that it was the version that takes longer. And superficial analysis, only for the ingredients, would not contradict him. It was clever. An _amortentia_ version brewed for a year. There were so many people who wished Malfoy ill… But nobody would have thought to start a potion at a time when Malfoy was still presumed dead. The potion was started the day Malfoy walked free out of that courtroom. And three weeks afterwards he was framed.”

Dawlish looked at him as if that were news.

“So, you didn’t know that? Well, you’re in good company. Took me a quite a while to work that out. We were all so ready to jump to conclusions. None of us thought about consulting with another potion master, none of us thought to ask Smith why he even searched Malfoy’s flat again. I assume someone put the idea in his head. Easily done, just a suggestion planted, subtly, nothing more. It could have even been done without magic. Just make a remark where Smith would hear it. It could even have been Smith’s own idea, although I doubt that.”

Harry sighed. “We lapped it up eagerly.”

“What did Slughorn gain from it?” Ginny asked.

“Snape’s notes on Vinicius.” Harry told her.

Dawlish shuddered.

“But Vinicius is crap.” Ginny protested.

“No, just convoluted. My guess is it’s all hidden in there: All the spells that Snape discovered, or rediscovered, the _Praeda_ spell, the _scutum_ , the carrier for perpetual spells.”

Dawlish began to wail, as if in pain.

“Looks as if I’m cutting close.” Harry remarked.

“Slughorn has been dead for what, a decade now? Harry, if he had the notes…”

“Slughorn did nothing about them. He just milked the notes and didn’t dabble otherwise, apart from inventing the spell cleaning potion. For which he was awarded an Order of Merlin. The other stuff was too dangerous, probably, bordering on the Dark Arts, too advanced.”

Harry rounded on Dawlish again.

“You were ordered to take Snape’s memories from the vault, weren’t you? You must have taken them shortly after I established the vault. Someone owed you a favour or just showed the vault to you on a visit.”

“Harry, how would anyone even know there were memories?”

Harry grimaced. “Snape probably hinted at his memory stash in his notes. When they did not find them at Snape’s house, they checked elsewhere.”

Dawlish began to cry. Big, fat drops fell on his immobilized hands.

Ginny looked at the ex-auror, her face contorted in pity.

“They were lucky to find the memories. Only, they were not as useful as they thought. Nothing about the carrier in them, nor about Phoenix Potion.”

“So, the carrier was discovered by Vinicius? How did no one ever find that before Snape?”

“Ekrizdis made an anchor for the dementors at Azkaban and apparently he used a perpetual _scutum_ to prevent the anchor’s destruction, as Baxter found out. My guess is, that Ekrizdis unlocked at least some of Vinicius’ secrets and that he used the carrier. But all of his stuff was burnt as dark magic, when the ministry took over Azkaban.”

“Who, Harry, who is behind this? Who _imperiused_ Dawlish? Who took the notes after Slughorn’s death?”

“The person who knew he had them, because he had given them to Slughorn in the first place.”

Harry ran his hands through his hair.

“The man with the legal knowledge to lay the trap in the _amortentia_ frame. The man who had been publicly humiliated by Hermione when she won the Malfoy trial.”

“Sloane,” Ginny breathed.

Harry nodded. “The _amortentia_ frame was cleverly done, it has the stamp of a lawyer over it and I should have seen that. I should have guessed that Dawlish had gotten legal advice.”

Harry frowned. “But I’m not sure, why he started to attack muggleborns or why he began to work with people who do, and for some time as well. Sloane is not known as a blood purist, although several names that came up in our investigation certainly are. And it’s so much more than just slyly working with the possibilities of the law. Back then he might have just wanted petty revenge, but I wish I knew what his agenda is now. Why did he start looking for Snape’s memories? Why did he suddenly need his research on Vinicius?”

“What about the goblin connection?”

Harry shook his head. “Goblin silver is needed for the alert spell on the figurines, but I’m sure there is still more about that. I suspect they really need vast amounts of Goblin silver if you look what they have bought. Now, we need to make good use of the _veritaserum_. And we’ll see if Dawlish can add to this.”

Harry spoke the counter curse to _imperius_ again and Ginny held a _scutum_.

Dawlish confirmed everything Harry had guessed. He had found the memories, going through the memories Harry had filed into the vault, looking for cases he could not remember. There never had been a theft that involved someone named Major after all. He still couldn’t help them about the carrier, nor did he have an idea of where the stolen magic of the muggleborns went.

“I don’t know, if it’s even important,” Ginny said. She rubbed her wrist, still holding on to the _scutum_. “They might just want to ensure that there won’t be any muggleborns in the future. And they just let them slowly bleed their magic out.”

“Or they might use them to boost their own magic. Something went wrong in Emma’s case. Emma became seriously ill and lest I grew suspicious they attacked the muggleborns in Wiltshire, attempting to frame Malfoy. Snape used a spell on Malfoy to boost his magic and that was discussed in his trial.”

“Well, they know that you are willing to suppress evidence when it comes to Malfoy.”

Harry flushed. “Were willing,” he corrected. “I know better now.”

Ginny’s pressed her jaws together, her face strained. “Any other question for him?”

“Do you know about a connection to Goblins? Or to Dementors?”

“I don’t know why they need Goblins. But I know they were promised wands.” Dawlish’s voice was rough although he hadn’t said much. “No idea about Dementors.”

“One more question. Do you know if they have Phoenix Potion?”.

Dawlish shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Harry signalled for Ginny to stop.

Ginny let go of the _scutum_.

“Phoenix Potion?” Ginny looked at him questioningly.

“If Slughorn found Malfoy’s preparations for his second batch after the battle of Hogwarts, he might have run an analysis and worked it out.”

“Malfoy brewed a second batch?”

“He and Snape talked about it, after Neville had closed the Room of Requirement for him.”

Ginny shook her head. “If I weren’t worrying so much about this conspiracy right now, I would tell you that you deserved that. I would scream at you, that you absolutely deserved that. Withholding Snape’s memories bit you in the ass, spectacularly.”

“You just told me,” Harry pointed out.

“Don’t smartass me, Harry,” Ginny scowled, her eyes flashing with anger.

“I’ve been telling myself the same, you know, almost every day since the New Year. You are right.”

Some other feeling entered Ginny’s eyes, compassion perhaps, fading anger? Harry hoped that he did not misread that. He felt like he had never needed his wife as much as in this crisis.

Dawlish who had breathed very quickly and unevenly, trying to control himself in vain, finally slumped and lost consciousness, the conflicting spells that had been put on him had proved too be too much.

“What do we do with him?” Ginny asked.

“Grimmauld. Kreacher will have to watch him, until we can make the arrest. We might need to do it before we find the carrier and hope that we find evidence.”

He looked at his watch, grimaced and slapped his forehead.

“I forgot James’ and Richard’s quidditch game.”

“Oh, that growing list of shortcomings of the great Harry James Potter,” Ginny’s voice was flat, and Harry could not decide if she was joking or reprimanding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit it: I lied....
> 
> When Neville and Astoria took over DADA teaching at the beginning of the year, some of my lovely readers voiced the suspicion that a sick DADA professor was a bad sign.... And I brushed over that....


	86. The art of avoiding wrackspurt infestation (August 27, 2004)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Blaise's and Luna's wedding Gryffindors have to skirt attracting wrackspurts - Or where Ron mopes and Neville goes off.

Nobody who looked at the bride and the groom could deny that they were a happy couple. And the weather played along as well. The party in the Lovegoods’ garden was merry, there was a slight breeze, plenty of champagne and life in general was as good as it gets. Ron had just signed the contract to play for England as keeper. He certainly did not regret leaving the auror department.

There were enough Gryffindors to balance Blaise’s Slytherin bunch. It would have been a potentially volatile situation, but Luna and Blaise had addressed the problem quite openly in their invitation. “We kindly ask the guests not to give in to wrackspurts’ meddling. The bride will give the anti wrackspurt treatment to anyone who is in need.”

And the groom had promised to throw anyone out who thought about igniting the house rivalry. Blaise had been quite candid about that, not on the invitation but he had informed every Gryffindor about the fact that his treatment would be less benevolent than Luna’s.

So Gryffindors and Slytherins actually mingled, raised their glasses to bride and groom and clinked them, informing each other, that they would do that ‘for the bride.’ Ron saw Ginny talking with Daphne Greengrass and her younger sister, and Harry had a chat with Theo Nott, which was a miracle in itself. Ron did not remember ever having seen Theo Nott talk to anyone in school.

Ron tried to stick to the Gryffindors though. Hermione was present, and apparently the Slytherins were interested in her daughter. Rina had been the flower girl and she had made everyone laugh, when she had set her little face in a determined frown – a frown that made her look like Hermione instead of Malfoy for a split second – and instead of gently scattering the flower petals had hurled them at the ground with a swing, as if she wanted to punish them for a deadly offence.

Ron had listened in to more than one remark, that little Rina just looked like Draco and wasn’t it hilarious. He did not think it was hilarious at all. Looking at Rina flared his hate for Malfoy. He had been married to Hermione for less than a month and still had managed to irrevocably print his stamp on her.

He chatted with Seamus and Dean and admired their newly adopted son, David. It was Seamus’ turn to look after the baby and he abstained from drinking. Ron told them, that he thought this was a bit exaggerated, but Dean laughed. Seamus admitted that he had set the baby’s musical clock on fire the last time he had drunk at a party. Dean patted his husband and promised he would abstain at the next wedding.

Ron was a bit sloshed himself and remarked that there were musical clocks who should be set on fire if they played the wrong songs. He reconnected with Padma, who was the only Ravenclaw present, even indulged in a little flirtation.

When some of the food had been eaten, Blaise stood up, raising his glass.

“As you can easily see, I am the groom, not the best man. But the man I wanted to be my best man is unavailable today and Theo only agreed to play the role in his stead, if he would not have to do a speech.”

“Luna was fine with that. She told me that I like to just be in the midst of attention anyway, and that I should make the most of it.”

Luna smiled happily at Blaise and Ron wondered, not for the first time, how this unlikely couple had come to be.

“Luna is right as always and I want to make the most of it, but of course only to brag about my wonderful bride and the people who helped us.”

“Raise your glasses!”

“To Xenophilus for actually allowing me to marry his daughter! We are so glad, you are here!”

Everybody clapped and Luna’s father really looked very happy.

“To the Limpiepinkies who somehow latched on to us, even though I wasn’t even sure I wanted them to!”

That drew out quite a few chuckles.

“To Tatki, my dear elf employee who had to be persuaded to be freed, just so that I could come closer to Luna. I stand in awe of your sacrifice.”

Blaise urged the elf to stand up and Tatki pulled at his long ears in embarrassment.

“Since this is sort of necessary at any wizarding event, I also give a toast to Potter.” …

Blaise made a dramatic pause.

“Have no fear though, Harry. I won’t mention any of the usual things that are mentioned in your presence. I just want to thank you and Ginny for being friends to Luna. I know this turned her into an honorary Gryffindor, but I’m resigned to that. And I have high expectation that at one point in your life you’ll just be known as the husband to the famous chaser from the Holyhead harpies! To Ginny, the bride’s maid! The Potter I meant!”

Many laughed at this, Harry the loudest. He bent down and kissed his wife, whispering something, eliciting a wide grin from Ron’s sister. Ron tried to ignore the tiny prick of jealousy. He was not sad that Harry and Ginny had wed a month ago. He was not.

“To Pansy, just for holding my hand, when I despaired of ever winning Luna over. Kindred spirits, eh Pansy?”

Parkinson flushed.

“To the man, who would have been my best man, if circumstances had not prevented it. He was privy to all my elaborate and very futile attempts to woo Luna. When I unburdened myself to him, when Luna had disregarded yet another of my expensive jewellery presents, he just looked at me and shook his head….

“ _‘Blaise’, he said, ‘you are such an idiot. You don’t even want Luna to be impressed by jewellery or fawn over it, because that is not who she is. Do something better with your money.’_ So, now I am officially hooked to spend money on all kinds of magical creatures’ research. To Duncan Miller.”

Ron almost choked. He had not known that Blaise was a close friend of Malfoy. He didn’t remember seeing them together that often in school. Slytherins and Gryffindors both reacted with an awkward silence. Ron scowled at Hermione who grinned at Blaise. She had raised her glass as had Parkinson. Luna smiled, she smiled!

Blaise scowled at his fellow Slytherins. “It’s not contagious, you know, especially not by just mentioning him.” The Slytherins duly raised their glasses while the Gryffindors fiddled with theirs, a fact Blaise ignored.

“To Theo, who stepped in. He has brought the rings, said all the right things, organised the presents. Apart from refraining from the best man’s speech, but that means I can talk, so he is the simply the best.”

Theo Nott looked at his feet, while his fiancée Daphne Greengrass beamed at him.

“The next one will surprise you. But Dragon pox needs an honorary mention. Dragon pox and Hermione Granger-Malfoy brought us together. I’ll never forget the exquisite experience of being lectured by a very greenish and feverish Hermione that it would be so much better if there was a vaccine against Dragon pox. I had to educate myself on vaccines and I agree with our swot in residence Hermione – which means that she has my full support on her next submission to the wizengamot. To Hermione and research on vaccines!”

Hermione laughed despite being called a swot. She had never liked being called that. Ron shook his head sadly.

“To Rina, the lovely flower girl. Those petals certainly will stay on the ground.” That had everybody laughing.

“One toast left. To my lovely wife, kindest witch, limpiepinkie finder, expert at the repulsion of wrackspurts and to my chagrin an honorary Gryffindor. To Luna!”

“Hear, hear” some of the Slytherins shouted.

“You may drink to my health as well, but it is not really necessary. I am convinced that Luna will do her best in the years to come!”

Blaise’s little speech was followed by a round of applause and Ron clapped along.

“If he wanted Malfoy to be his best man, why didn’t he just invite him? It might have been a bit awkward, but still…”, Seamus asked. Ron was relieved that he did not have to ask that question. He could hardly believe that Luna would be glad about that, but knowing Luna and her ability to look past grievances, she might have agreed.

“Luna’s father is very ill.” Neville told Seamus. “They didn’t want to wait. And Luna wanted Rina as a flower girl.”

“Even if they had waited, they could have hardly invited Hermione and Malfoy both even after the ban.” Ron remarked.

Neville blinked at Ron, his face had a sheepish expression.

“Well, Hermione is going to get a divorce, now that the elves are sorted, isn’t she?” Ron told him. “She’s just stubborn about it and doesn’t want to admit that she was duped and drugged.”

“Ron,” Harry said. He sounded tired. “Don’t”.

“We promised Luna not to indulge wrackspurts in any way,” Ginny’s voice held a warning.

Neville shook his head quite vehemently.

“What is it?” Ron addressed him.

“This is not going to happen, Ron”, Neville told him. “There is no way this is going to happen.”

Now Neville had to face the combined anger of Harry, Ginny and Ron, but he ignored them and let the flat of his hand fall on the table and stood, a fact that was bound to attract attention, if only for his height.

“Wake up, Ron”.

Ron felt a hint of anger. Why did even the mention of Malfoy spoil an otherwise perfect day. He would not lose to Malfoy. He was a war-hero, a man about to start a stellar Quidditch career, there was no way a criminal who had wriggled his way out of a just sentence, a man who couldn’t even do magic any more, a man who would hold back Hermione’s career would win over him.

Neville inhaled deeply. “Look, it is really not that difficult. I’ve approached this problem by the Luna Zabini née Lovegood approved method, and I made a list of possible outcomes, of anything that might happen after the contact ban ends.”

He raised his index finger. “One: Malfoy was framed, there was never any _amortentia_ or anything else involved. Hermione loves him. I don’t even need to spell out what will happen, eh?”

“Two, there was never any _amortentia_ involved, but the separation has led to an estrangement. Hermione doesn’t love him any longer…. But there are the elves, and there is a possibility, that somehow a divorce will unsettle the elf situation again. So even if feelings have grown stale, they might still decide to give it a try, if not for the elves – which is scenario A, then for their child, scenario B.” Neville ticked of his middle and ring finger.

“Three, _amortentia_ was involved, but elves are **still** there, **and** Rina.” Neville had raised his thumb.

“A child can be raised alone. She’s done a good job so far. Hermione won’t stay with Malfoy, not when she realises, she was a victim of _amortentia_ , even not for the bloody elves.”

Neville pursed his lips. “Because sacrificing personal happiness for a greater cause is not something Hermione Granger does? We’re talking about the woman who obliviated her own parents, so that she could hunt horcruxes with Harry.”

“That was far more important than the elves,” Ron argued. “I’m sure she’ll not sacrifice her lifelong happiness for elves. And the elves’ situation is settled anyway, I’m certain.”

Neville did not deign to answer. He raised his pinky. “Next possibility, _amortentia_ is involved, and despite the elves and Rina, Hermione decides to dump Malfoy because of that. Nobody would blame her for that.”

“See. She’ll need help then, because she’ll be devastated. And Harry and I will be there for her.”

“You moron,” Neville almost barked. “When did Hermione ever react well to someone who approaches her with a condescending ‘I told you so’. You should get this, Ron. Whatever the scenario, there is absolutely no chance, you and she will be a couple again. No chance whatsoever. You’re lucky, if she speaks to you again at some point in your life.”

Ron was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. Briefly his eyes met Padma’s who had followed the exchange with interest.

“You did this all wrong, Harry and you. You should have approached her, and observed her, and should have made an effort to get real proof, if _amortentia_ was involved, instead of doing a full force legal attack…. You think Malfoy robbed her of her own free will and all you could come up with as a solution was to force her by law into a separation she most assuredly did not want....”

Harry was not taking this with equanimity, Ron saw. His face had blanched, and he pressed his teeth together. It looked almost as if he were about to grind his teeth. Ron was tempted to try and punch Neville. What had gotten into the man?

From the corner of his eyes, Ron saw Luna talk with Parkinson and point at their table. Parkinson nodded and started to come over.

“I don’t know, why you would defend Malfoy, Neville. The man was a death-eater, and a nightmare in school.” That was Hannah. She was upset with her boyfriend and with good reason. Her aunt had been killed by death eaters. Ron nodded at her. She would talk some sense into Neville.

But Neville rounded on her. “This is **not** about Malfoy, Hannah. This is about Hermione, my oldest friend, who saved my ass more times than I can tell, and not only in potions.”

“Is your defence of Parkinson about Hermione as well?” Hannah asked. Her face held a deep scowl.

Neville’s face darkened several shades. He did not realise that Parkinson was only a few strides behind them, probably not yet in earshot.

“Parkinson is a superb auror. If I say so, it is only the truth.”

Ron shook his head. “Parkinson wanted to sell Harry to Voldemort, remember?” He did not care that she might hear.

Neville slammed his hand on the table again, hard. “Are you going to judge her by one sentence she said, when she feared for the lives of her parents, siblings and Merlin knows how many cousins?”

“She participated in the lessons of the Carrows like all Slytherins,” Ron said. Since when had Neville become such a snake lover? Parkinson’s face told him that she had heard. Her face burned.

Neville’s jaws clenched. “Don’t talk about 7th year, Ron. You have no idea. You were off, camping with Harry, you have no idea.”

“That is absolutely true, Ron, sorry mate.” Seamus interjected, just as Ron wanted to sputter his objections. He clapped his mouth shut. Maybe he really had no idea.

“I don’t hold that against Pansy, Ron, and neither should you.” Harry obviously had decided to side with these traitors. He nodded at Parkinson who now was definitely within earshot. Neville turned and his face took on an alarming shade of red.

“Neville has it right. Pansy is an amazing auror. And we make a great team, don’t we, Pansy?”

Pansy was visibly flustered and shot a short glance at Neville who had finally fallen silent.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said in a voice that sounded unusually tiny and timid.

“Let me guess,” Harry said. “Luna sent you over to make sure, we are not getting overwhelmed by wrackspurts.” He smiled, although Ron could see that it was an effort for him. His face was still deadly pale.

“Exactly, well deduced,” Parkinson seemed to have found her self-confidence again.

“I’ll tell Luna, I am sorry,” Neville told her. “I’ll rein myself in. Maybe I should get an anti-wrackspurt treatment.”

He turned on his heel and practically fled. Ron was tempted to join him. His mood had soured considerably, but no anti-wrackspurt spell would help against mentions of Malfoy.

He looked at Luna and saw that Hermione was talking with her, her daughter on her arms. Malfoy had sired a mini version of himself on purpose. Ron did not know how he had done it, but he was certain about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I am a terrible tease. Readers probably wanted a big resolve for the muggleborn case and instead they get the Blaise - Luna wedding.  
> But since this was demanded as well, I doubt anybody will complain...


	87. Carriers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The information on the conspiracy is brought together and the connection to the past revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't give a recollection of what we know about the muggleborn case, because it is basically all in this chapter.  
> It's still the same day.... And many people in Neville's and Pansy's living room.

They landed right in the middle of the Longbottom’s living room and Hermione collided with Colin and Prudy of all people. She gaped.

“Prudy, Colin, what are you doing here?” She picked herself up and saw that Draco, Robert, Neville, Meg and Penny were also there. They all looked out of it. Colin had red eyes, as if he had cried, Draco was white as a sheet, the other children looked disturbed, and Neville had a set look about his mouth that gave him a very determined look as if he were about to behead another snake.

“What did the Pott-Weasel disaster twins do this time?” She touched Colin’s shoulder, but her boy only leant into her in a barely perceivable movement.

She really should have told Harry to get his son and nephew in hand. She would owl him and add that to their conditions.

“Nothing.” Colin protested.

“You don’t look like nothing happened. Why are you even here?”

“Our son has just lost his innocent outlook on the world.” Draco sounded as if he had quite a difficult time himself. “Let me explain.”

And explain he did.

The occamy eggs were forgotten. Blaise stood still, the drawers in his hands, Luna opened and shut her mouth, Teddy had let himself fall on one of the chairs, and Hermione felt nausea come over her.

“Enslaved with dark magic that was harvested from a broken oath of friendship for centuries?” she whispered. “And we are tied to the undoing of the curse?”

Colin nodded.

“How did this not come out before? How did I not find anything about this?” Hermione was indignant.

“When you did your research on us, the curse had become tightened again, after Dobby’s liberation cut off the possible undoing of the curse by the Weasleys.” The tips of Prudy’s ears almost touched her shoulders. “None of us could have even given you a hint.”

“And why are you so pale, love,” Hermione turned to Draco. “I can hardly believe you were surprised.”

“I have a terrible headache, but that is only a nuisance. Colin has pledged himself and his life to the elves’ cause in a promise that might as well have been an unbreakable. And I bet you’re pregnant again.” Draco gave her a rueful smile.

Hermione scoffed. “Pregnant? Nonsense, I….” she stopped herself.

“Merlin,” she whispered. She had forgotten to buy that damn after potion. She had actually forgotten. And her period was overdue. She let herself fall unceremoniously on the sofa at Draco’s side.

“You knew before me. How embarrassing.” She took his hand and began to giggle. She could not help herself.

Colin looked mortified and Meg scrunched her face. Well, children did not like to think about the fact that their parents had sex.

Luna beamed. Neville had a pained look that let Hermione sober up fast.

Prudy hopped at her side and patted her hand. “We’ll help. The cat is out of the bag now.”

Hermione waved her hand. “Well, it is your fault ... if only after a fashion.” She shook her head.

“I have to leave, now” Prudy said. “The Gryffindors will be partying and I have to inform the other elves.”

She hugged Colin, waved at them all and disapparated with a loud crack.

Neville turned to Blaise. “On another note. You can put these down, Blaise.”

Blaise balanced the drawers, a dazed look on his face.

“I take it, this is evidence for the occamy smuggling,” Draco observed.

There was another crack and Blaise almost dropped the drawers, as Pansy landed within inches of him, two people in tow, one of them vaguely familiar.

Blaise cursed loudly. Hermione could understand, she wouldn’t want to be hit with one of those eggs either.

Pansy gazed up at the unexpected invasion of her living room. Teddy who had been silent during the whole reveal of the elves’ curse came to life again.

He helped Pansy up. “I found the carrier, Pansy, I found the carrier.” His appearance suddenly looked very much like a young Harry. It was eerie.

The young man pointed at the drawers. “We’ll get them now.”

“Is this about the big conspiracy?” Draco asked. He stood, doing his best to appear unruffled by this Harry look-alike, and went over to where Blaise had carefully placed the drawers.

“Love,” Hermione said warily. She had no idea what seeing so many encased _scutum_ spells would do to him.

Draco froze and stared.

Robert pointed at Teddy. “Potter,” he said.

Teddy flinched and his appearance went back to normal. Robert looked puzzled at Teddy’s suddenly purple hair.

“That is excellent, Teddy, good work.” Pansy praised him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the young auror. He had the grace to be embarrassed. “I mean, we all found them, the occamies and there were bloody dementors, and ….”

He looked directly at Hermione. His cheeks had grown red. “Thanks for saving me.”

“Occamy eggs.” Pansy exclaimed. “Occamy eggs.”

“Occamy eggs practically spill over with magic, shortly before they hatch. It makes sense,” Luna told her.

“And dementors?” Pansy dug deeper. “Were you caught at your sleuthing?”

Teddy flushed an even deeper red that clashed with his hair. “I might have alerted them to our presence.”

“Then we have to act really fast,” Pansy scowled at Teddy.

“I still think there was an anchor for dementors, that got triggered when I came closer to the eggs, curse carriers or whatever these blasted things are,” Blaise argued. “If the witch in the shop had alerted somebody, the place would have been swarming with villains. We covered our trails. Still, they might find out any time, that we broke in.”

Pansy looked at Draco and Hermione. “I am sorry, I have to alert Harry.”

“Do that.” Draco waved his hand. He still looked shook, but Hermione could see that he tried to pull himself together. “This day has been a ride already.”

Pansy took her wand and produced her _patronus_. Then she introduced the two persons she had brought as Dudley Dursley, Harry’s cousin, and his muggleborn son Neill who had been hit by a _praeda_ curse. Hermione could feel her own eyebrows climbing into her hair. Now she knew, why Dudley seemed vaguely familiar. She had probably seen him a few times.

“A muggleborn within the same family…. Interesting.” Draco remarked. “Hit by a curse that plunders. Plunders his magic I assume.”

Pansy nodded and turned to Neville. “Nev, I don’t think the school scroll failed.”

She pointed at the watch at Neill’s wrist. “There is goblin silver within. It syphons Neill’s magic to someone else, someone who must have a piece of corresponding jewellery, that receives the magic.”

“Muggleborns’ magic is plundered and syphoned to whom? Squibs?” Draco asked.

“Matilda Fawley,” Neville exclaimed. “Last autumn she was bit by a mandrake root. She had to remove her necklace so we could treat her wound and was unable to do any spell for days. We thought the shock had destabilized her magic.”

“Andrej Boots,” Hermione was certain about that. “Terry told me his mother gets a fit, when he takes off his family ring.”

“The Rosiers and the Sloanes. They had children who came into their magic after everyone had given up.” Draco put in.

“And after they had consulted with Mr Fjodor, Natasha Boots’ father.” Hermione added.

“Mum,” Meg had gone pale. “Is it the same as my bracelet?”

“No,” Hermione told her. “Your bracelet only sends information and only if it’s activated. There is no constant flow of magic.”

Meg let out a loud breath of relief, and Hermione hugged her and Colin as well, while she was at it. Robert reached out to them and wanted to be included.

There was another crack and Harry appeared, side by side with Ginny. That was a surprise. As far as Hermione knew, Harry left Ginny out of all auror work.

Neville murmured something about a hen house under his breath.

“Potter,” Robert exclaimed and pointed at the head auror. Draco groaned and Blaise laughed, while Harry pointedly just nodded at them all. He looked at Pansy with expectation in his eyes. His gaze slid over Hermione’s face for the fraction of a second.

Pansy showed him the occamy eggs. “There’s the _praeda_ curse. Encased in occamy eggs that are close to hatching. They apply it permanently and the muggle children get a piece with goblin silver that syphons the magic to squib children who have a matching piece, possible from the same goblin silver heirloom. An heirloom that was cleaned of any other spells beforehand. Probably with Slughorn’s potion.”

“There are over fifty muggleborns who have come down with something called Bethan’s disease.” Harry said.

“How did you learn that?” Pansy’s eyes widened.

“Believe it or not. Ron hired a muggle detective who ploughed through the data of the muggle National Health service. He told me this morning.” He studied the oval carriers.

“They probably use the occamy eggshells as well.” Luna explained. “It would strengthen the connection if they used it from the same egg that was used to apply the curse.”

Draco stood on the other side of the drawers. He studied Harry who pointedly did not look at him. “The _scutum_ spells are probably for important wizards and witches your conspirators want out of the way, Potter. Minister Shacklebolt, Pansy, maybe Flitwick.”

He then pointed at the carrier that was of a sickly green colour. “That one’s meant for you, Potter.”

“For me?” Harry asked, locking eyes with Draco over the rim of his glasses.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, for you, Saint Potter, the man who lived twice and all that. They probably reckon that you’d finally stay dead with a perpetual _avada_.”

Ginny was seized by a violent shudder.

“How did they work out Severus’ spell?” Draco asked. “I assume _praeda_ is Severus’ invention.”

“We have to act fast,” Harry ignored the question. “Nev, Pansy, Teddy, prepare for the arrest.”

Teddy stood alert. “Me?”

“Yes, you cover for Baxter. He was hit with a perpetual _confundus_ this morning.”

Harry raised his wand.

“Potter,” Draco narrowed his eyes. “There is time for one question. The _praeda_ spell. That was the one you mentioned. The spell Severus used on me.”

Harry looked at Draco over the rim of his glasses. “The last piece of the puzzle. I only managed to verify this today. Sloane had found Snape’s assorted notes on Vinicius and sold them to Slughorn in exchange for a favour.”

“Someone with legal knowledge and someone with knowledge on potions.” Hermione put in. Draco nodded when her eyes met his.

“The favour was the analysis of this so-called _amortentia_.” She stated. Anger burned in her guts. Even after all these years. Even after having learned about the elves and the bloody 900 days. Harry’s gaze met hers and he nodded tersely.

“Just out of pettiness,” Draco pressed his lips together. “Not some Voldemort supporter, not some Order member. Sloane was just pissed, that Hermione had won my case. He probably thought I had deserved at least two and a half years. So, he ensured that I would get a sentence, if not Azkaban.”

“How long have you known, Potter?” he insisted. Hermione wondered if Harry would tell him that his questions would have to wait. Harry stood on the balls of his feet.

But Harry obliged him. “I still don’t **know** , Malfoy. Ginny and I just grilled Dawlish and his suspicions align with mine. I’ll arrest Sloane and then hopefully, I will know.”

He took a deep breath. “And hopefully, I’ll get evidence.”

“Dawlish,” Draco seethed. “Mr ‘I need five minutes to explain how to brew tea’. So, he wasn’t in the know? I can hardly believe that. He’s been always my second prime suspect after the Weasel King.”

“He never acted on his suspicions, that the _amortentia_ was a frame. That is his crime. He let it lie because he wanted you punished. I guess he deeply regrets that now.” Ginny said.

Draco and Hermione snorted simultaneously.

“When Harry and I visited him just now, he was under a perpetual _imperius_ , because he was ord… “, she hesitated shortly and looked around, her forehead scrunched in worry. “… because he had guessed too much. It took us some time to work around that, but we managed.”

Ginny’s voice sounded slightly off and strained. She exchanged a look with Harry, and Harry breathed something voicelessly, that looked like a ‘thank you’. Strangely enough that made Ginny scowl. Hard.

“Dawlish did the only thing, that he thought might alert me that something was wrong and excused himself from teaching at Hogwarts.” Harry added.

“The DADA teacher curse,” Neville shook his head. “Could have realised that. I even joked about that.”

“So, what was in it for Slughorn?” Draco asked. Hermione burned to know as well.

“Slughorn wanted his hand on Snape’s notes, if I knew him at all. I think he suspected that there would be hints to the Phoenix Potion as well. He could have earned perpetual fame for that. Once you were out of the way of course. I am sure, he did at least use Snape’s notes to invent the ‘spell cleaning’ potion. I doubt he used the notes otherwise. Too dangerous.”

“He just deciphered Severus’ notes and didn’t invent shit,” Draco burst out, and Hermione nodded. That made sense. Slughorn had always been one for analysis, not for invention.

Harry squirmed, opened his mouth and closed it again. He let out a loud breath, that came close to a snort.

“Is it possible that Slughorn found your second brew of Phoenix Potion after the battle of Hogwarts? That he worked out how it is done?” There was a deep frown on Harry’s face. “That could be very dangerous.” His voice sounded pressed.

Draco frowned shortly and closed his eyes, as if that would help him remember. “I don’t even remember clearly. I stored that away with Gregory’s wand. It’s even messier than the rest of my memories of that time. I didn’t have enough time to finish that, but it could have been a basis for an analysis.”

“I fear so,” Harry said. “Sloane must have retrieved Snape’s notes when Slughorn died. He was the executioner of his will. He took the notes and possibly Slughorn’s research. _Sectumsempra_ , _praeda_ , _scutum_. They must have been all in there. And Snape’s observation on the carrier for perpetual spells. Snape must have spent years on finding the gold nuggets in Vinicius’ trash.”

“And then Sloane hooked up with some of the old families probably because his own grandson is a squib, and then they decided they would rectify the muggleborn abnormality, once and for all.” Hermione shuddered.

“Clever, subtle. Not a reign of terror like Voldemort. They could just feign that muggleborns and squibs were a problem of the past. They didn’t even intend anyone to die, did they? I mean apart from you. And possibly Draco.” She shook herself. “Take out some other people with obliviating spells and a _scutum_ on top. Drop them in the muggle word.

“They did indeed shy from murder. If the data of the National Health Service is anything to go by, this twisted connection between a muggleborn and a squib might last a lifetime.”

“They would condemn wizards and witches to die out in the long run, though.” Draco shook his head.

“How so?” Ginny asked.

Hermione wondered how they could not see it. She pointed at Neill.

“Do you think it is happenstance, that there is another muggleborn in your mother’s family, Harry?”

She searched the eyes of the people present and they looked at her as if she had spouted nonsense. Her eyes met Draco’s and he gave her a small smile. She could practically hear him in her head: ‘yes, love, other people are not as brilliant as you. You have to explain.’

“Muggleborns descend from squibs. And if squibs would not mingle with muggles, all these purebloods would die out. Wizards and witches need muggles. For genetic diversity. I think the magic itself ensures that. That’s why there are squibs in the first place.”

She could have sworn it took them all several minutes to process. If she had been younger, she would have scolded them for the idiots they were. Since she was forty after all, she just shook her head at their stupidity.

Draco smirked. Colin looked like he wanted to add something, but Draco pressed his shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

“Uncle Harry,” Teddy interrupted the silence timidly. “We should do the arrest now. We have all the evidence. The carrier, the connection to the goblins and the money laundering, the cover up with the Muggle government.”

Harry nodded.

“Neville to Fawley, Pansy to Greengrass, Teddy you take Helena Prewett in Baxter’s stead. Don’t go alone. Hannah Abbot will go with you.”

He turned to Luna. “Are you both still up for it?”

Luna nodded. “You wouldn’t believe how they tricked these occamies. I am really angry at them.” It was not an exaggeration. She even looked angry.

Blaise made a face and then he laughed. “As long as you admit, that not taking this occamy smuggling serious did really bite you in the ass, Harry.”

Harry threw his hands in the air. “Get in line, Blaise. It will take me weeks to atone for my sins in this case. My ass is so covered with bite marks, that I can barely sit.”

Several of the others laughed. Not Ginny though. She scowled again.

Then Harry waved his wand, producing one _patronus_ after the other in an impressive display of strong magic. The stags stood in alert.

Harry sent them all away with a wave of his wand. “We strike now. Be prepared for advanced perpetual shields and, possibly, Phoenix Potion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the lovely people who comment, subscribe, give kudos and gush about the fic in my inbox on my tumblr. You really motivate me to write!


	88. The arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a concerted action Harry and the people he trusts move against the conspirators

Harry decided on a cautious approach and pretended to need legal assistance, because the minister had reprimanded him in the case of the Malfoy observation. He and Ginny were admitted to Geoffrey Sloane’s presence by elves, and Harry spun a tale about how he had suspected Malfoy and had wanted to catch him, but that he was in trouble now, because he could not produce evidence. Sloane listened in patience, while Ginny moved around the room. Harry hoped that Sloane would not realise that she was searching for wards.

The large eagle figurine that sat on Sloane’s desk began to move. Harry wondered, what it meant, and itched to take the eagle into his hands, checking if it was of a similar kind as the figurines.

Sloane picked up a sheet of paper and studied it. Harry could have sworn that there hadn’t been any letters on the sheet before Sloane had taken it. The lawyer gave him a smile that made Harry’s hackles rise.

He reached into one of his drawers, telling Harry that he would give him a contract for legal advice.

But instead of papers, he produced a vial he shattered on himself, before Harry or Ginny could prevent him. For a second, mist rose from his person before it evaporated.

He proceeded to attack, and Harry and Ginny soon were hard pressed. Their spells just slid of the older wizard confirming Harry’s suspicion about what exactly had been in that vial.

Ginny tried to cast a _scutum_ on Sloane to prevent him from firing hexes, but that slid of as well.

That caught her off guard, she stumbled from the backlash, and Sloane disarmed her.

Harry only saved her from the killing curse by barrelling into her and taking her down on the ground on top of him, immobilizing his left arm, setting his own wand flying.

Sloane stood above him, his wand at Harry’s throat, a triumphant smile on his lips.

“Apparently, your second is down and your pet herbology teacher as well.” He pointed at the eagle and waved the sheet of paper that now assuredly held letters.

“And half of your aurors are compromised anyway.” He grinned triumphantly.

“I don’t think I’ll wait for the surprise we have prepared for you, though, Mr Potter. I’ll just finish you off, all by myself.”

When Ginny tried to move, he pointed his wand at her, snarling.

“Just to satisfy my curiosity, Mr Potter. Was the Malfoy observation a sham?”

“I never suspected him.” Harry told him. “I knew it was a set-up. You shouldn’t have tried to frame the same person twice.”

“A pity. It would have been delicious if you had arrested him for crimes against muggleborns. Just as it was satisfying to have the Granger witch involved in an _amortentia_ case. When she had made such a passionate plea for its abolishment.”

“The Minister knows everything,” That was a bluff, Harry could only hope, that some of the others were more successful than he. He was afraid for Neville and Pansy. He should have sent them together.

Sloane shrugged. “Shacklebolt will be dealt with soon.”

He showed his teeth. “I have you at my mercy. I am doused with Phoenix Potion, so indulge me and tell me, what you found out.”

He did not bother to chain them with a spell, but Harry didn’t think it made much of a difference. His fear for Ginny threatened to freeze him. He didn’t know if he even could move.

Ginny made an elaborate tale of it. The occamy eggs, the goblin silver and the syphoning of magic. She did leave out that Luna and Hermione had taken some of the eggs. Her right hand stole to Harry thighs and pinched him hard. Harry twitched with his left hand and hoped she felt it. She had remembered his last resort.

Sloane pressed his wand harder into Harry’s throat. From the corner of his eyes, Harry saw a mangoose _patronus_. Apparently, either Neville or Pansy had escaped. Hope flooded back into his veins.

“Not bad, you were a fairly competent head auror. It is a pity, we’ll have to replace you. But you definitely know too much.”

“I had plenty of help.”

“We’ll get all your friends though. In a few years, research will show that muggleborns do indeed steal magic and then we can establish our method as the standard of how to get it back.”

Harry tried to incite Sloane to spill more beans. “You’re not a blood suprematist though, why do you even care?”

Sloane snarled. “We only set right what should never have happened. My only grandson was robbed, descended from a lineage that goes back to the Selwyns and the Ollivanders on my mother’s side and yet he has no magic. And then there is this Granger muggleborn witch who keeps getting magical children. And her married to someone who is as good as a squib, a disgrace for an old family. We only took back what should have been my grandson’s.”

“But it is not his magic,” Ginny objected.

“You know, if I won’t manage to kill your husband, the special surprise we prepared for him will do it, I am sure.” Sloane changed the hold on his wand.

“So, Mr Potter might have a respite, but you won’t.” He pointed the wand at Ginny.

“That is a mistake,” Ginny met his eyes, unwavering. “Harry will do anything to protect me.”

The crooked lawyer laughed. “ _Avada----_ "

Harry closed his eyes.

For the fraction of a second there was no thought in his head. And then he filled that void with his summons. He felt a welcome weight in his hand.

The sword of Godric Gryffindor cut through Sloane’s wrist and separated Sloane’s wand from the caster. Sloane screamed.

Harry was covered in blood in a matter of seconds.

Harry and Ginny picked themselves up. Ginny stepped on Sloane’s remaining hand and shook her head.

“I told you Harry would protect me.”

They only ligated his wound after he had passed out.

The mangoose _patronus_ approached and whispered in Pansy’s voice. “They do have Phoenix Potion.”

Harry nodded at it. “I know, thanks.”

The mangoose disappeared again.

Harry hugged Ginny close and breathed in the smell of her hair. His own heart slowed, when he felt her exhale on his neck and picked up the beating of her heart in the artery of the throat.

“I told you I would be useless as a wizard when you are in danger.” He pressed her even closer to his body.

“On the contrary, it was very good, I was here with you. I doubt you could have summoned that sword to save yourself.” Ginny wriggled out of his arms.

Her smile was smug. “I mean you are practically a Slytherin by now, just like Dumbledore”

“Quick search of the house or check on Neville and Pansy first?”, she asked.

“First we have to incapacitate him.” He pointed at Sloane. “Then to Greengrass. Neville has this as a last resort as well.”

Harry dropped the sword and it vanished.

There were several vials in Sloane’s drawer and Harry forced a vial of Phoenix Potion down the man’s throat.

A pair of silver-white mongoose arrived and relieved them of their fear for their friends.

“Thorough search it is then,” Ginny grinned.

They started with Sloane’s office. Harry drew on his authority as head auror to enlist some elves to disclose information about hidden cupboards and drawers, but the elves did not know much.

After several attempts, Ginny found the hidden safe and Harry reproduced Sloane’s magical signature to open it.

More vials of Phoenix Potion came to the surface, and the books that were the key. There was also the vial with Snape’s memories.

Harry took it and sighed with profound relief.

“Vinicius,” Ginny held up a small, ancient book. It was written on parchment, with faded letters. “Shit with flecks of gold, obviously.”

She opened the book at an earmarked page. “ _Amortentia_ ,” she read out loud. “That must be the recipe Sloane used to brew the batch for the framing.”

“And then Slughorn just added ginger …..”

“Snape’s annotations.” Ginny opened the second book and revealed the small orderly handwriting of Severus Snape.

Harry took the third book. “Slughorn’s research.” He leafed through the book, half of its pages were empty, but there was what he had feared all along. A recipe for Phoenix Potion.

Harry showed it to Ginny. “Duration of shielding effect against every curse: Two hours. Against minor curses: four hours. Malfoy’s original was better.”

One _patronus_ after the other arrived to inform Harry of successful arrests. Harry did not mind at all, that Sloane had regained consciousness and had to witness how his allies fell.

***

Pansy had decided against a clandestine approach. She was an auror and she could hardly pretend that she was anything else. Surprise and speed would be better than stealth. And she was sure the conspirators had a communication system. She suspected that Greengrass was one of the minds behind the operation, and he would not be arrested and be led away docilely.

She crashed through the wards in a move that was meant to intimidate. She ignored the wailing alarm and went straight for Rowan Greengrass whose signature Teddy had collected in a clandestine action in Diagon alley. Heading for his signature led her to him immediately.

Greengrass still had a nasty surprise up his sleeve. Pansy’s disarming spells slid off him as if he were doused in oil, and Pansy held on to her own wand only by a hair. Every hex she shot at him was ineffective. She managed to hold her own for a while, even though the effect of the Phoenix Potion was unfamiliar. In a split second of inattention, though, she became disarmed.

Greengrass touched an eagle on his desk, when he had secured her, grinning triumphantly, and scribbled a small note. But he made the mistake of not killing her immediately. He grilled her for information and cast a _cruciatus_ on her. It almost left her breathless but not unconscious. She feigned to faint.

She bid her time and when Greengrass turned his back on her, she concentrated on her _patronus_ , and her mongoose appeared behind Greengrass. Wandless summoning of a _patronus_ had its perks.

Her mangoose knocked Greengrass over and snatched his wand away, returning her own wand to her. She threw a hex at the bookcase behind him and buried her opponent beneath the books. He went out cold when she hit him with the eagle figurine.

She frantically searched for the Phoenix Potion, sent her _patronus_ to alert Neville and Harry and any of the others it could reach. When she had found a vial, she forced it down Greengrass’s throat and dumped him unceremoniously in his own bathtub. She had to undress him with her own hands, but once she had scrubbed him vigorously with sand, not caring if she took his skin off, the potion was weakened, and she managed to portkey him to Azkaban. From there she sent another _patronus_ to tell Harry she had succeeded.

***

Neville paid a social visit to Mrs Fawley bringing her some plants from the glass house in Hogwarts and he chatted amiable with her about plants. Pansy’s _patronus_ nudged him under the table, and he bent down on the excuse to fetch his napkin.

“Careful, they do have Phoenix Potion,” the mangoose whispered.

When Mr Fawley joined them, Neville had already conjured his own _patronus_ under the table hidden by the tablecloth to be on guard.

Neville did not beat around the bush but informed him straight on, that he was arrested and produced the warrant. Fawley laughed at him, called him a pathetic excuse for a wizard and disarmed him. He was so preoccupied with gloating not even wondering why Neville stayed calm that Neville’s punch took him completely by surprise. Neville’s _patronus_ carried back his own wand into his hands.

“I wonder, why nobody ever seems to account for the fact that I’m 6’ 3.” Neville told the astonished house elves and Mrs Fawley. He patted his _patronus_ on the head and called him a good boy.

Mrs Fawley had a complete breakdown, confessed everything, wept copious tears, and voluntarily handed over one vial of Phoenix Potion swearing that they had no more. Neville felt obliged to console her, after he had fed the Potion to Fawley.

***

George smiled at the elf who opened the door. “Special delivery by Weasleys Wizard wheezes.”

He and Angelina pointed at the boxes. The elf was puzzled but let them in. George chatted with the elf incessantly drowning all the protests that they were not expected with his own loud voice. The McFingalls were not amused, that George invaded their living room, but in their annoyance, they overlooked Angelina who let the boxes fall and disarmed the whole family. While she collected the wands, George threw the _incarcerus_ spell at them and made neat bundles out of the suspects, brandishing his special arrest warrant signed by the minister.

They delivered the bundles without further complications into the able hands of auror Eugenia Shape who put them in the upper cells in Azkaban where they would await their trial.

***

Arthur and Molly Weasley were not as lucky as their son. The Dohertys had been suspicious of their social call, and they actually had to duel, before they managed to bundle up their suspects. They had unbreakable protective shields, just as Harry had warned, but they were not up to Molly firing objects at them in an alarming speed. Arthur insisted on searching the house and confiscated muggle technology that surely breached several laws. Molly just frowned when he ‘accidentally’ slipped one of the devices in his coat’s pocket instead of the auror approved neutralizing bag.

“We should be too old for this,” Molly said and let herself fall into a chair in their garden, after they had returned from Azkaban, but giggled when Arthur complimented her healthy flush after the exercise.

***

Viola Prestwich arranged an emergency meeting for several aurors and served tea and coffee herself. She only had to disarm one auror who had been suspicious of the muffins and had not succumbed to the sleeping draught. She wondered if this was a good sign, when she had forcefully fed the potion to him. They all would be questioned in the weeks to come. Some might prove innocent. With a sigh she portkeyed Wally to Azkaban where Eugenia awaited him.

***

Percy Weasley felt nauseous and frightened, when he entered his boss’ home on a Saturday evening, uninvited and frowned upon. He was glad his older brother Bill was with him. Percy feared that Kimut only had to use his boss voice to make him buckle, but when the goblin suddenly produced a wand, it was Percy who saved his brother. While Bill and he transported Kimut to Azkaban he wondered if he had finally done enough or if this darkness would still remain in his mind, where his conscience constantly nagged him about the years he had abandoned his family.

***

Charlie Weasley joined Luna and Blaise in routing the Fjodors. And they were lectured by a very stern Luna that their treatment of magical creatures was atrocious, and she declared, that the greed for the money they had made in the smuggling clearly was due to a likely incurable infestation by lividgrains.

***

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas trapped several goblins cutting off their escape routes with a string of carefully orchestrated explosions.

***

Hannah Abbot almost let go of Helena Prewett when Teddy’s appearance changed to Harry’s for a few seconds after they had arrested her.

***

It was lucky that Harry’s stag found Ron not in the middle of tightly packed dancing floor but in the garden of the hotel where the wedding took place. Ron had stolen away with Ricky for a few moments to give her the new muggle passport he had forged. Ron promised Ricky who stood in awe at the silvery stag to explain everything later and disapparated on the spot.

At the gate to the Rosiers he took up a cat that prowled the lawn and informed the elf who opened him that he was scouting for Quidditch talents. The famous keeper was admitted and Max Rosier learned to his chagrin, that Ron Weasley was still a better than average dueller, and that even being doused in Phoenix Potion was no help, when there was a screeching cat with extended claws in one’s hair and objects kept zooming in from everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't do multiple PoVs in chapters usually, but I thought my readers would like to see more than just Harry....
> 
> Finally, Harry's preparation does pay off.


	89. The Core of a Wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Harry and Co are preoccupied with the arrest, Draco and Hermione try to undo the curse put on muggleborn Neill.

All of a sudden almost everyone had disapparated. Everyone but Colin’s parents, the girls and Robert. Mum told Penny that she did not need to worry.

Dad had disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a package of biscuits that looked half empty. “Household without children. Neville and Pansy don’t have anything useful in their kitchen. The expiry date of these was a month ago. There are eggs and toast though. Who wants eggs?”

Dad grinned. “Not occamy eggs, mundane chicken eggs.”

They all wanted eggs, but munched on the biscuits anyway, while dad rummaged in the kitchen. Mum fetched some teacups.

At first there was silence. Colin hardly knew what to say anyway. He still had to process what he had learned about the elves, and that his family was connected to the undoing of the curse. Potter’s cousin, who didn’t look at all like he could be Potter’s cousin, studied them, or rather he studied mum.

“So, everything went so fast…. These occamy eggs…. They are used to make a curse permanent.”

He shook his head. “What even are occamies?”

Penny reached into her pocket. “This is a figurine of an occamy. They are beautiful, magical creatures. Stealing their eggs is a crime.”

Neill was fascinated and watched it moving in between Penny’s fingers.

“I have a figurine of a lion, that used to move when I touched it.” He confided to her.

“Was it attuned to you?” Penny asked.

“According to Harry it was a trap. Meant to expose me as a wizard to the people who cursed me.”

“This occamy was made by my godmother.” Penny pointed at mum. “She would never curse me. It’s just a toy.”

Neill looked with something like yearning at the small occamy.

“So, while Harry unravels this bloody conspiracy, can I ask you something? You are wizarding folk, aren’t you?” Dudley asked.

“Neill has been cursed with one of these?” He pointed at the drawers that still sat on the desk.

They nodded.

“There is something I don’t understand.” Neill said. “Why didn’t they just throw a curse with a wand and be done with it? Shouldn’t a spell be permanent anyway?”

“No spell is really permanent, there is just the effect of the spell that can be permanent. At least on persons.” Colin could not help himself. Which spells were permanent and which weren’t was one of the most interesting research fields in charms and he had talked at lengths about it with Professor Greengrass.

“I can cast a tickling spell at you, and I can do it for hours, because it is not a very taxing spell. But the minute I stop casting, you stop laughing.” Mum told him.

“But if I cast something that has a permanent effect, like making you grow a moustache, that would remain until you shave yourself or you remove it with a spell of your own.” Colin chimed in.

“Objects can be transfigured permanently, though.” Meg would not be left out of the discussion obviously.

“Some spells can be tied. The _praeda_ curse apparently is something that can’t be cast to last.” Dad had come over from the kitchen, plates in hand. Meg and Colin jumped up, the lifelong habit of setting the table taking over.

“So, how can we undo this curse on Neill.” Dudley wanted to know.

“One solution would be to find the counter curse and apply that, with an occamy egg.” Mum frowned. “The use of occamy eggs close too hatching would be highly questionable of course under the law for rare magical creatures, but exceptions are allowed if a life is in danger. That is, if we even find a counter curse.”

“When in doubt, cast a _patronus_.” Colin quoted one of Uncle Neville’s lessons in DADA.

“A _patronus_?”, Mum asked.

Colin nodded. “Yes, it’s a _patronus_ purpose to protect the caster. Uncle Neville says, this is, why they can be used in any dangerous situation if you’re not sure about what to do.”

“Wow, your DADA lessons actually seem to be useful.” Dad remarked.

Colin rolled his eyes. “This is the moment where you tell me stories about how all your DADA teachers, but Snape were rubbish. And then mum cuts in and makes a case for Lupin. And then you bicker about Lupin and whether it was a good idea to let third years confront their greatest fear. I can assure you that Dawlish was not the best either. He was not Voldemort in disguise or anything, but he was boring and tedious.”

“And he was biased as hell.” Colin added just for good measure. “Uncle Neville on the other hand….”

“But Neill is not old enough to cast a _patronus_ ,” Meg said.

“Not a corporal _patronus_ ….” Mum jumped up. “I bet Neville and Pansy have a book on _patronus_ casting.”

“They should.” Dad laughed. “But maybe it is enough if he tries. Reclaims his magic by doing any spell.”

Colin reached into his pockets. “I think he should try with my wand. It has an occamy feather core. If there is a chance at all, it would make sense, that it is my wand.”

“Would that not be underage magic out of Hogwarts?” Meg and Penny wanted to know.

Dad scoffed. “There is no tracker on Neill yet, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

Colin stood up and went to Neill. Hopefully, he could do something against at least one dark curse. He asked after Neill’s full name.

“Neill Ajit Dursley, I confer free use of my wand to you, of my own free will.” He put his wand into the boy’s hand.

Neill’s eyes had widened, and he looked in awe at Colin’s wand. “What do I do now?”

“Think about the persons you love, your dad, your mum, your siblings, anything that makes you feel happy. And then you yell. ‘ _Expecto patronum’_.” Mum explained.

She demonstrated how to do it, and her otter sprang to life.

“Beautiful,” Neill was mesmerized.

Mum studied her _patronus_ , deep in thought. She turned to dad. “Should I alert Terry? I doubt he is involved.”

“Tell Terry to grab his son, run and hide.” Dad agreed. “These people are dangerous. They might also hurt the children on the receiving end to cover their tracks.”

“They are their children, Draco.” Mum hesitated, her otter still in attendance.

“These children are squibs, Hermione. The moment these people realise their ‘stealing magic back’-scheme is not going to work who knows what they will do? There are parents who hurt children that do not live up to expectations.”

Mum and Dad looked at each other in silent understanding. She instructed her _patronus_ and the otter departed in a wink.

“Now, Neill, it’s worth a try.” Colin encouraged the younger boy.

“You don’t even have to yell, you know,” Meg told him. “If it’s easier for you to focus you can use words, but there is no limit. Use your imagination about what magic can do.”

Neill looked at Colin’s wand, fidgeting, insecure.

“You can’t really hurt anyone without meaning to.” Penny had picked up on the reason for Neill’s distress.

Neill swished the wand. Nothing happened.

“Take back what is yours,” mum laid her hand on his shoulder. “And yelling might help after all. Even if you only yell, ‘mine’ or something like that. Just to channel your magic.”

“Maybe imagine that you cut through this curse.”

At first, Neill was too shy to get loud, but after several tries and promising little sparks that came out of Colin’s wand, he shouted loudly, alternating between the words for the _patronus_ spell and a strongly accentuated ‘mine’.

A white-lilac shaft suddenly burst from the wand and Neill was flung several feet backwards and fell, his father calling out in distress. His watch fell off and landed on the floor with a loud crack.

Neill had fallen on his back and he stared with round dark eyes at all the people that surrounded him.

“Wow”, he grinned.

He picked himself up. “I feel so much better.”

And then he rubbed his ass. They all laughed.

Neill handed the wand to back to Colin. “Thank you very much.”

Colin gave it back to him. “You have to be more formal about that, sorry.”

Neill did his best to return the wand a second time. “I hereby return your wand and express my deepfelt gratitude for graciously lending it to me.”

Meg and Penny laughed about the boy’s serious face.

Mr Dursley let himself fall on the sofa with a huge sigh and hugged his son.

Dad brought the eggs and Neill was chatting away happily with Meg and Penny, questioning them about Hogwarts. They would all be in the same year.

Mum and Dad told Mr Dursley that they should best wait for the aurors to return before going home. The Longbottom’s house was well warded, and people might be after him, if they realised, that he had been involved. Mr Dursley called his wife, and mum and dad informed Rina and Lizzie in short notes and told them to be extra careful. Colin could hear his own phone hum with the messages in the family chat.

Colin pinched himself. He felt off, slightly sick and his head hurt like hell, probably from crying. It was not that a conspiracy was unveiled every day. He was glad that Neill was freed of the curse, he was glad, that apparently the people who wanted to steal magic would be held accountable, but how could everything be so normal, when something as dreadful as the curse of the elves had happened?

He wondered what he could do to help the elves. He stood up and wandered to the drawers. He looked at the encased _scutum_ spells fascinated at their opaque opal coloured hue. They looked strangely beautiful, not like the sickly greenish tinge of the one egg that held the killing spell and not like the turquoise _praeda_ spell.

Maybe to be rid of magic was a thing of beauty. So many terrible things had been done with magic. There shouldn’t even be something like curses. Wouldn’t it be better, if one did not even have the chance to do dark magic?

Colin’s finger approached the opaque egg as if of his own volition, gingerly touching it. It did feel slightly squishy, not as if it would give in at the first try, but frail nonetheless. Surely it would break if Colin poked hard. If he poked with just a tiny bit of pressure.

“Colin,” he heard mum’s voice.

He looked up. His eyes met hers and he flushed.

“Please, come here.” Her smile held a lot of tenderness.

Step after step, Colin went to her, his gaze wandering back to the eggs several times.

Dad had stood up, his body tense, as if he were prepared to jump at the slightest cue.

Mum gently took Colin’s hand, just the tip of his fingers, and Colin let her have it willingly. He felt like in a daze.

“You cannot help the elves without magic,” mum said. “It would be a hollow statement.”

Colin felt tears pricking his eyes again.

“How…,” he stopped himself. How had she guessed?

“I know you. You would like to do something now, immediately, charging in like a Gryffindor, but this is not how it works.”

Colin swallowed.

“We’ll work at this.” His mm pressed his fingertips. “The plight of the elves will not be forgotten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Colin's wand is put to good use!  
> This might be a bit of an anti-climax after the action in the last chapter but curses have to get undone!  
> Thanks to all my lovely readers whose comments make my day!


	90. A new house (January 5, 2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The contact ban has finally come to an end and Draco and Hermione reunite.

Hermione had woken up in the middle of the night, and sleep had eluded her. Today, the 900 days were finally over, and she would see Draco again. They would meet at her parents who had taken Rina for the day, because Hermione had a defence case today. A rebellious elf had been sued by a distant relative of the Weasleys from the Prewett side because his inattentiveness had ruined the potions, he was supposed to watch over. Hermione could only hope that the trial would not be that long. She would call Draco the moment she left the courtroom. She just hoped she would not fall asleep. It was an easy case anyway. A potioneer was not supposed to let elves do the work, considering that there usually was so much wand work involved. If that case had not come up, she could have reunited with Draco yesterday.

Prudy had advised against that though: “They might be lenient about the last hours, or they might not. Better safe than sorry.”

Prudy and Tatki were bustling around, while Hermione sat at breakfast. She had no idea why the elves were so excited. Prudy hopped up and down as if this were a special day for her. It would have been funny, if it did not almost drive her crazy. Hermione still feared that at the last minute someone would come up with a new scheme to separate her from Draco.

She looked around her flat and at the boxes she and the elves had packed. She was not sorry to move out. Their honeymoon was a good memory, but apart from that there was little she liked about it. She would always associate her flat with aurors supervising her every move and the dreadful time she had had Dragonpox. And it was too small for a family of three anyway. And they planned on getting another child in the near future, so that the age gap would not be too big between the sibling.

Draco had organised a house. He had been busy preparing everything for moving in since Christmas, or that is what he had told her. Hermione suspected that he had prepared at least since Rina’s second birthday, if not even before that.

When Hermione had complained that she wanted a say in how the house was furnished, Draco had laughed. “You are a witch, Granger. Anything you do not want you can change with a swish of your wand.” He had a point there.

Hermione had tried to pump her parents for information, but they had kept their silence. “It’s supposed to be a surprise”, her mother had told her. “We won’t spoil it.” Her parents were certainly in cahoots with Draco.

Hermione suspected that they had given some of their money as well. Draco did make money with Fortescue’s, but he was far from rich. And occasionally he still had what they called RPP, or rich prat problem. It was not really a problem of Draco not knowing enough about money, it was rather a problem of Draco knowing too much about quality. And sometimes real quality was just not available on their financial level. Draco had even some quote about it from a muggle author: Captain Sam Vimes’ boots rule or something like that. Hermione had yet to read that book. It basically came down to the fact that quality might cost an insane amount of money but was less expensive in the long run.

Tatki and Prudy had moved all her books already, and now there were just the breakfast dishes. Hermione stood and prepared to tidy the dishes and put them in the last box, but Prudy and Tatki were faster.

“Please,” Hermione told them. “Let me do something. I’ll go mad with excitement, otherwise.”

It was true. Hermione could not remember ever having been that excited, not frightened at all, but filled with joy. Maybe when she had first ridden on the Hogwarts Express. Her excitement and joy made her look at the clock every five minutes. It was funny that the 900 days had somehow passed, but now the last hours seemed to crawl.

Finally, finally it was a quarter to nine and Hermione apparated to the side lane from where she could enter the ministry to a hopefully short trial.

The trial lasted only three hours, and judge Williamson, a halfblood judge who was not prone to cater to exaggerated pureblood expectations followed her defence and told Helena Prewett that she could count herself lucky that the elf had not decided to ‘rat her out to the potioneers’ society’ as he worded it.

It was 12 o’ clock sharp and her cheeks felt hot, and the blood pounded in her ears. She texted Draco and left the courtroom in a daze. Everyone was a blur before her eyes. She might have heard some people greeting her, but she picked up her pace and began to run. She was slightly out of breath, when she entered the great hall from where she could floo.

She saw his tell-tale hair from far away, and her heart leapt into her throat, even before she heard her phone chime. She wanted to call out, to shout his name, but tears sprang to her eyes and clogged up her voice. Apparently, tight with emotion, her body did not know, whether to laugh or cry. Turn around, she thought, look at me.

Although the hall at the ministry was buzzing and noisy, Draco somehow sensed her arrival. His face lit up as she approached, her curls flying. Her eyes were still blurry but when she saw what was in his rucksack, her body decided for her to break out in laughter. The tips of two French baguettes were just visible over Draco’s left shoulder.

She came to a halt just in front of him, almost doubling over. He caught her before she fell and pulled her up.

“When we last saw each other, I promised you fresh French bread.”

His smell reached her nose, familiar, and yet new and intoxicating, wrapping all around her and the rest of her laughter was swallowed, when his lips crashed down to meet hers. He tasted better than she remembered. His tongue was cleverer than her dreams. His body felt hard against her in an unfamiliar way and comfortable at the same time, reassuring. She felt as if she would drown. She felt as if she could float. One of his hands stole to the small of her back. She could feel it there, right through her coat. His other hand was buried deep into her hair at the back of her neck.

He broke their kiss and began to catch remaining tears on her cheeks and lashes with lips that felt as soft as silk. His mouth wandered towards her ear.

“Baguette magique. It’s the French word for wand, did you know that?”, he whispered. His voice sent jolts through her body, just as he had made her shudder when they had talked on the phone, late at night, whispering into each other’s ears. His sexual innuendo drew a deep laugh out of her belly.

She raised herself onto her tiptoes and nuzzled her face in his neck. “A wand, all for myself.”

She pressed her hips to his, chasing the feel of his arousal through his winter coat.

“All yours, Granger,” he answered.

His mouth sought hers again and they melted into each other, entwined in their own magical circle, set apart from the buzz around them.

When they came up for air the next time, Hermione touched her lips with her fingers. She loved how sensitive her skin was, that the feel of Draco’s mouth and tongue seemed to linger.

Draco let his fingers dance on her neck. His cheeks were flushed with the heat of the moment.

“I’m breaking at least two pureblood rules right now.” His eyes glittered with amusement.

“Tell me all about it, Malfoy,” she said. Her hand was on his biceps, ready to draw him in for another kiss.

“I’m in love with my wife.”

“How undistinguished and vulgar.”

“French kiss in public.”

“Shocking. I am certain, your father will hear about that.”

“I sincerely hope so.”

He dove in again, nibbling at her lips, moaning hungrily until her heart was about to burst from her ribcage. Or was it herself who made that noises?

“Draco,” she murmured into his mouth.

“Shht.” He stopped and looked down at her face. “You should stop saying my name in that voice. I’d rather not have a French wand accident in public.”

She laughed. “We can’t have that… “

“There is making a point, and tell all these wizards and witches who watch us now, that they can go and fuck themselves and there is privacy.”

“You want to show me our house.”

He nodded. His mouth was set in a smile, a real smile that made her happy.

“I think, about every ministry employee on their way to lunch has seen at least a glimpse of our deliciously unprecedented behaviour.” She looked around and indeed wizards and witches made satisfyingly scandalised faces at them. She grinned and licked her lips.

“I hope they all realise how ridiculously inadequate their own sex life is.”

Draco took her hand. “I know you will forgive me, Granger. Blaise rented a fancy sport car just for today. You know, riding into the sunset to live happily ever after and all that. Not looking back on the past.”

She made their linked hands swing. “I hope we can actually eat the baguettes and you didn’t just bring them for the sake of a joke, Malfoy.”

“It’s all in my rucksack, everything for a picnic in our house.”

They had attracted an audience, and she recognised some faces. Sloane looked as if he were about to vomit and Hermione hoped his stomach would give him trouble for years to come. Some aurors were there as well, she saw Neville shaking his head but there was also a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Parkinson grinned and waved at them. Harry or Ron were nowhere to be seen. If she knew Neville at all, he had probably warned them. What a pity. If she saw them now, she would be tempted to try how far Draco and she could go just by kissing.

“Yet, we will make him run.” She quoted as they picked up their pace to leave.

***

Draco insisted that she would let herself be blindfolded, so that the house would be a real surprise. She obliged him, although she did not particularly like to be blind in a car. She laid her hand on Draco’s thighs and drew circles on it, slowly closing in on where he certainly was aroused.

He swatted at her hand. “I’m driving.”

She laughed, feeling dizzy with happiness.

“Baguette magique,” she said.

The car stopped and she smiled, brimming with anticipation. Draco opened her side of the car and picked her up, carried her like a bride. She laughed again.

“I missed you so much,” she breathed. “I want to make love to you.”

She could feel Draco’s breathing and his heartbeat where her body was pressed into his. He let her down and fumbled with her blindfold.

“I’m sure I’ll love it.” Hermione kept her eyes closed a moment longer.

“I really hope so.” Draco’s voice trembled just enough to show her that he was nervous.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a very familiar house number, a number she had seen every day of her childhood. There was a small wreath just above the number and a ribbon that read ‘welcome’.

It took her a moment to process it.

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she had to laugh. “That is why Monica and Wendell insisted that this New Year they would visit me. Oh my!”

Draco turned the key, took both her hands, and led her into the house.

“Prudy and Tatki did some extensions charms. It should be big enough.”

“What did you do to persuade my parents? Where do they live now?”

“Nothing, it was their idea. They said, the house needs a family with children.”

He searched her face. “Do you like it? We have a library.”

“Do I like it? Do I like it?” She giggled.

She threw herself in his arms. “Draco, let’s live happily ever after.”

He picked her up.

“Bedroom?” he asked.

She nodded happily.

They didn’t even make it to the bed. They didn’t even shed all their clothes. The first time they made love in Mayweed Grove, Hermione’s back was to the door of their bedroom, her legs folded around Draco, while he held her up, all the while incoherent words and sounds spilling out of their mouths, because no existing word could encompass what they felt.

They ate the baguettes in bed and initiated their marital bed in the midst of crumbs of bread and cheese.

Monica and Wendell brought Rina in the evening. She was so excited to see her mum and her dad at the same time and in the house of her grandparents, that she refused to go to bed. Hermione told her a story while she sat on Draco’s lap, all of them cuddled together until her eyes finally closed. Draco first carried Rina to her bed and then they both went hand in hand to their own bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this chapter had to be written....
> 
> Hope, my lovely readers like it...


	91. Children's squabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An exhausted Granger-Malfoy family returns home.

The arrest apparently had been a success. Pansy had looked uncharacteristically ruffled, though, when she and Neville had finally returned. Blaise and Luna had had an easier time of it. Blaise complained loudly about how his wife had lured him into this stupid Gryffindor foolery, but nobody took him seriously, because they all knew that Blaise would protect Luna at any cost. Pansy was beside herself with joy, that Neill’s curse had been lifted. Neville worried about the squibs at the other end and wanted to return to Hogwarts to check on Matilda Fawley.

Potter had been nowhere in sight, but had written a note, in which he informed Draco that Snape’s notes and Snape’s memories had been found and asked if he could come to the department so that they could decide on the head auror’s official statement in regard to his case. Something nagged at Draco in a corner of his mind, but he was too knackered to identify what it was. He would think that through tomorrow when his head hopefully would be better. He informed Potter via Hermione’s _patronus_ that there was no way he would come to the department and he suggested Russell garden square, close to the British Museum in Muggle London, as a meeting point.

There were obviously quite a lot of tales to tell, but the children practically were asleep on their feet, and they decided to return home and to let Colin have the Sunday to sort himself out. Neville would fetch him on Monday morning in time for school. Draco certainly wanted his family far away from the occamy eggs turned curses. He had not liked the speculative glint in Colin’s eyes when he had studied the eggs with the encased _scutum_ spell. Colin probably had some stupid Gryffindor idea about how further sacrifices would be necessary to free the elves.

On their ride back Hermione finally had a chance to tell about their occamy hunt, and Draco shuddered about the danger she had been in.

Hermione patted his arm. “If we’re lucky, there won’t be any need for anything remotely like this in the next twenty years.”

Draco chanced a look at her from the corner of his eyes. “I know you did it for Luna, but in the end, it was Potter again, who was involved. And when he is involved, there is danger. You were right about that. Potter means trouble.” He tried to keep his feelings out of his voice. He was jealous and angry, and he knew he was being ridiculous.

“Potter,” Robert was still awake, the rascal.

Hermione laughed.

“Balloon”, Robert shouted, his voice excited.

“Shht,” Meg chided him.

“Do you think there is another reason why there are squibs? The magic could evade the elves’ working towards the extinction of the houses involved in the curse?” Colin’s mind was obviously still wide awake.

“I mean, it makes sense that the magic needs genetic diversity, but that could come into it as well.” Colin mused.

“It might take years to unearth all repercussions of the elves’ curse.” Draco had several suspicions about possible elf involvement.

Hermione nodded. “Interesting idea, Colin, I think it might be both.”

They had arrived at their house and Draco pulled over. When he had stopped the engine, he looked at his wife. “I just want you to be careful.”

He knew that it was pointless to try holding Hermione back.

“I did not place myself in danger on purpose,” Hermione protested.

Draco arched an eyebrow at her, undid his seat belt and bent over to whisper in her ear. “The children need you, the little one needs you. I need you.”

Hermione pulled back and studied him.

Somehow, she knew. “I need you as well…. You said so yourself. I did not do this for Harry. Draco, love of my life, remember? And the elves did not make me do anything. We decided to be together.”

The children squabbled on the back bench, Colin and Meg had entered an argument. Colin told Meg that she shouldn’t have taken something, and Robert began to demand balloons again.

“Do you believe Prudy then?” Draco swallowed.

“I believe that Prudy did nothing but orchestrate Rina’s conception. She might be lying about the involvement of the other elves, especially with the contact ban. Just at the end of the ban, you remember, there came up this ridiculous case…. Which delayed our reunion by half a day until the exact time of our separation had passed safely.”

Draco nodded. “Or Prudy might be convinced she tells the truth about that.”

He shook his head. “But it would have been so easy. Sloane’s elves could have planted the idea in his head. Some elves might have given Slughorn the idea about how to meddle with the _amortentia_ analysis. Potter’s elf might have riled him up…. It is too neat to be an accident. Prudy is mistaken or she lied to… I don’t know … to spare my feelings. And I can’t even blame the elves for wanting to be free.”

The children still squabbled.

“Get out of the car,” Draco snapped at them.

“But, dad, Meg took … ”

“I know you’re tired but just stop fighting. I don’t care what Meg took … ”

“Balloon….” Robert wailed.

“For Merlin’s sake, get out.” Hermione ordered. “Calm down! I must tell dad something important.”

Colin unfastened Robert’s seat belt and the children climbed out of the car, Meg muttering under her breath.

Hermione placed her hands at the side of his face. “Magic cannot influence real feelings. I’ve loved you before you freed Prudy. The moonlit night in the hospital wing? I know, you don’t remember, but I do, Draco.”

She smiled. “That was a hell of a kiss.”

Her lips sought his, and just like that, his doubts and his jealousy evaporated.

The children’s fighting had not quieted down. They were screaming at each other.

Hermione broke their kiss.

“I think the children need us to settle their argument,” Draco murmured.

They got out of the car.

Robert still shouted about balloons at the top of his lungs. He held something in his little hands. Colin screamed at him to lay it down. Meg yanked at his arm.

Draco’s heart almost stopped, when he identified what Robert held. No balloon, but one of the occamy eggs, the opal hue glittering in the light of the street lantern.

“Robert, careful now, lay that down.” Hermione’s voice trembled and her body shook.

“BALLOON” Robert defied his mother and threw the egg up in the air, face turned upwards, his eyes full of wonder.

Draco jumped.

He tried to catch the egg, so that it would not fall on Colin or Robert, and he managed to hold it for the sliver of a moment, but the squishy carrier slipped out of his fingers.

It rolled down his elbow and that proved to be enough to bend the direction of its fall. It hit the car, but did not make a splash. For a second, steam raised upwards from the car, but it evaporated before Draco could be sure, that he had seen it.

They all stood shook for several moments. Hermione’s face had paled to a shade of green that made her look like she would spew any moment. Robert and Meg had begun to cry, and Colin’s teeth chattered audibly. Draco slammed his hand on the car’s door to keep from unceremoniously dropping to the floor. He could feel cold sweat on his face.

“Robert took it out of my bag, I just wanted to look at it,” Meg wailed.

“You wanted to look at it,” Hermione closed on her. “You just wanted to look at it. Are you completely out of your mind?”

“I told you to leave it be,” Colin added fuel to the fire.

Meg cried even more. “I just wanted to look.”

Robert was even louder than her. “My balloon.”

Their neighbour Ms. Jameson stepped out of the door. “Do you even know how late it is? These children should be in bed.”

The corners of her mouth had that frozen downward curve of the permanently discontented. Draco suspected that it had been her who had sent the community service after them. He could practically hear her bitching about the Millers and how they had too many children. She looked at them, as if she suspected them to be drunk.

He showed his teeth at her. “Believe it or not, this is where we are headed. Good night, Ms. Jameson.”

He slammed the van’s door extra hard. His hands were still trembling.

Hermione glared at their neighbour. Her hand twitched for a tiny moment towards the pocket that held her wand.

They entered the house in silence, Colin shuddering, Meg and Robert sniffling. Hermione’s strides looked wobbly.

“I suppose that means we have to bring the van to the garage from now on. _Reparo_ won’t work any longer.” Draco remarked.

Colin gave a shaky laugh.

Hermione directly went to the cupboard that held their heavy stuff and poured a whiskey for herself and Draco.

“Not to curb your curiosity, Meg,” she told their daughter. “But you will never again take a magical item without asking for permission. We were very, very lucky, that dad reacted so fast.”

Draco downed the whiskey in one go. His hands just would not be still.

“Robert stole it from me.”

“Balloon,” Robert sniffled.

“Robert is two, Meg. He could not know how dangerous that _scutum_ egg was.”

“Almost three. You always take his side, just because he is the toddler. And he could only take it from me because you were preoccupied with kissing. Ugh.”

“Kissing is not a crime, Meg. And it’s much better than fighting, wouldn’t you say?”. Draco was about to pour himself another whiskey and down it, when Hermione looked at her own glass, shook her head with an exasperated sigh and poured the content of her glass into his.

Meg’s face distorted into a grimace. And then she began to cry. “I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.”

His anger fled at Meg’s remorse.

“Now, come here.” Hermione held out her arms, and Meg wailed and hurled herself into her arms, Robert in close pursuit.

“My, my, none of you were hit.”

Both children sniffled into her dress.

“And why would being hit by a _scutum_ be so bad?” Colin wanted to know. “You always tell us that we should not look down on muggles or squibs. If one of us were hit with it, we would just live as muggles, like dad. There is nothing wrong about that. Wizards and witches are terrible anyway.”

“I can assure you, that you wouldn’t like the effects of pent-up magic. And I would not wish this to my worst enemy.” Draco told him.

Colin’s face was sullen, and he pressed his lips together.

“Migraine is not just a headache, and the older I get, the worse the attacks become.” He did not elaborate on his theory that at some point it might mean his life. He took a sip of his second whiskey and then sighed and put the glass away. It was not a good idea to drink more alcohol on top of the pills he had taken today.

“I’m sure you do not think that all wizards and witches are terrible,” Hermione said.

“Muggles think that ‘ **abracadabra** ’ is a common spell. That is awfully close to the killing spell. What does that say about how wizards and witches have interacted with muggles.” Colin insisted.

Draco stared at Colin and his heart ached. As usual Colin did not do anything by half. Even losing his innocence.

Colin looked so forlorn, and Meg’s mouth stood open. Even her clever mind had never made that connection.

Draco’s eyes met Hermione’s. Why did a teenager’s existential crisis never hit at a convenient time? Draco remembered vividly how they had had several midnight discussions with Rina just after Robert had been born, and both he and Hermione had wanted nothing more than to sleep. Just like now.

“Wizard and witches are people. It pains me to say it, but people are not good or bad. Most of them are both and it depends on the circumstances. It is complicated. I am sure some did very bad things, including your ancestors.” Draco looked in Colin’s pained face.

“Are you guilty of any crime against muggles?” Hermione asked.

Colin shook his head.

“Are you to blame for the enslaving of the elves, Colin?” Draco asked.

Colin shook his head again. “No, but….” His face scrunched again.

“Sometimes, it can be so important how we call something.” Draco pressed his son’s shoulder. “There is blame, there is guilt, and none of them is yours. The wizards and witches who did this are to blame.”

“We’re still responsible, we cannot ignore what our ancestors did.” Hermione told him.

“Even yours?” Colin asked.

“I don’t know who they were, but somewhere there was a squib with magical parents, so yes, even mine,” Hermione answered.

Colin’s breath left his body in a puff.

“You helped lift a curse today,” Draco told him. “And mum saved captive occamies and a conspiracy was unravelled that would have been very harmful. I would say, we did enough for one day, even for goody two shoes Gryffindors.”

“Sorry it did not involve balloons. We’ll get you balloons for your birthday.” He picked Robert up.

“Time for bed, we don’t want that curtain twitcher, Ms Jameson set the social service on us again…”

When they had finally settled, Draco just wanted to sleep. Hermione snuggled up to him, fitting her back to his front, spooning into him.

“What about Narcissa for a girl, and Malcolm for a boy?” she asked.

Draco hummed. “There’s still plenty of time to discuss. You haven’t even made a test yet. You might not be pregnant.”

They both laughed.

She chided him shortly, when he crossed his arms in front of her and reached for her breasts.

“Keep your hands well away, love. My breasts hurt.”

“Bloody elves,” Draco murmured and settled on putting his arm just around her waist.

His eyes were about to drop close, when the nagging question that had plagued him in the back of his mind suddenly caused him to be wide awake again.

“Love?”, he whispered.

Hermione mumbled something unintelligible.

“I don’t remember. Did I prepare a second batch of Phoenix Potion? I must have or Slughorn could not have found that. Was that mentioned in my trial?”

He stared into the darkness. It was so difficult to remember without having images to hold on to.

Hermione made a short, irritated sound, but her breathing turned to a steady rhythm almost immediately.

Draco was reasonably sure the second batch had not been mentioned in his trial. How had Potter known about it? And known about it before he had found Snape’s memories and his notes at Sloane’s?

He stared into the darkness. Sleep evaded him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, no rest for my favourite family...  
> I hope you all appreciate the narrow escape.


	92. Squib

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Pansy go back to Hogwarts to check on Matilda Fawley.

Ariadne Highborough, the head of Hufflepuff and transfiguration teacher had already gone to bed, when Neville and Pansy pounded on her door.

Neville explained everything to her as shortly as possible and his colleague who had been grumpy and put out for being jolted awake, became alert within minutes.

“We need to check on Matilda Fawley. The aurors and order members are working on undoing the _praeda_ curses on the Muggleborns right now, and there might be a backlash.”

“But what to do with her? Is she an accomplice? Do you want to arrest her?” Ariadne was seemingly at a loss.

“Matilda is a child. We don’t arrest children.” Pansy sounded angry about the suggestion.

“We must first ensure, that she is not harmed. She can’t be blamed for her parents’ sins.” Really how could Ariadne even question that. “She might be able to answer some questions though.”

On their way to the Hufflepuff common room they met Rina and John, the heads, who were doing rounds.

Rina showered them with questions. Apparently, she had gotten messages in their family chat that had alarmed her rather than calmed her down.

“What does this all mean, Uncle Neville?”

“I’ll explain later, Rina,” Neville told her. “Everyone’s safe, have no fear. Right now, we first need to check on someone.”

“John, could you please go inside and fetch Matilda Fawley? But don’t get anybody alarmed.” Ariadne smiled, but her smile had a forced quality to it. Neville’s anger at her calmed. She had no experience with arrests after all.

“Is Matilda in trouble? She is the shiest girl ever and obedient to a fault.” John was uneasy.

“We just have some questions,” Neville assured him.

John turned and approached the badger family that guarded the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room.

“What kindness did you do today?” one of the small badgers asked.

“I suffered in silence when my co-head ignored me for half of our rounds.” John winked at Rina.

“I was completely elsewhere with my thoughts,” Rina protested. “You would be as well, if you had alarming messages by your family!”

The badger studied John. “Hmm, we’ll let that count.”

The door opened, and John vanished.

“Is Colin all right? Why is he at home?” Rina asked Neville.

“Everyone’s fine.” Pansy answered. She still looked as if she had had a tough day. There was a strand of her hair that stuck out and disrupted the usual tidy look of her bob.

“What the hell happened? Nothing mum or dad or Colin texted made any sense.”

“I don’t even know, where to start….” Neville ran his fingers through his hair.

“There has been a conspiracy of purebloods, who tried to put down the minister and the head auror and who stole muggleborns’ magic with a permanent spell and transferred it to their squib children. And we arrested them today.”

Rina gaped. “And my parents have been involved? Mum and dad helped the head auror?” Her voice sounded shrill.

“That was happenstance. Your mum and Luna found the occamies and their eggs were used to produce the perpetual spells. Your dad’s _scutum_ must have been an occamy egg as well.”

“And Colin?”

“Well, Colin unearthed the secret of the elves.” Neville swallowed. “And that happens to be tied to your family.”

Rina shook her phone. “Meg sent the strangest message of all, telling Lizzie and me, that Mum’s pregnant again and that the elves are to blame.”

Before Neville could delve into that, the picture with the badger family opened and John came out. “Matilda was brought to the hospital ward by Lizzie, because she fainted about half an hour ago.”

“Merlin,” Pansy cursed.

“I’ll tell you later, Rina. You and John, you finish your rounds.”

Fortunately, the hospital ward was not far away. Ms. Auren was very busy caring for a very pale Matilda Fawley and Lizzie sat at her side, a worried look on her face.

“She complained of headaches, and then she just collapsed.”

“I am at my wit’s end, Professor Highborough,” Ms. Auren said. “I think we should transport her to St Mungo’s. She just won’t wake up. And I can’t reach her parents.”

Neville saw Pansy’s eyes shimmering. “You won’t reach them. They have been arrested.”

Pansy bent over the unconscious Matilda. “She probably broke down when her muggleborn got rid of their curse.”

Very carefully she brushed the girl’s hair away from her neck, and the light in the hospital ward made the fine silvery necklace shimmer. Pansy took a cloth and carefully raised the necklace. She snapped it in pieces with a quick movement of her wrist.

Matilda opened her eyes and a sigh escaped her lips. Her gaze fell on the pieces of the necklace in Pansy’s hand. She gasped and touched her throat.

“My necklace!” Her eyes had grown wide with fear and a dry sob racked her small body.

She searched Pansy’s face, and then she looked at Neville and Adriane. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“You know…” she whispered.

Pansy studied her, her mouth had gone slack. Others might think that she felt nothing, but Neville knew that his wife was fighting to keep her feelings at bay.

“What does Pansy know, Matilda?” Lizzie asked her. She had come closer and tried to hold her hand.

“I didn’t want ….. I told my father, that …. “ her voice toppled over and then she began to cry in earnest.

Lizzie tried to embrace her, but Matilda shook her off.

“Don’t pity me,” she wailed. “You don’t know what ….” The rest of the sentence drowned in another sob.

She cried for a long time, until Neville thought, that there couldn’t possibly be a drop of water left in the little girl. At first, she had refused any helping hand, any embrace, any comfort, until Lizzie began to cry as well. Pansy embraced Lizzie then with her left arm and had begun to rub Matilda’s back with her right hand.

The girl finally calmed down, and her small hiccups filled the silence of the room.

Pansy coaxed the story out of her, one detail after the other. Neville’s heart clenched in pity.

Matilda had been ordered by her parents to never put off her necklace. And then she had been bitten in Neville’s herbology class, and Ms. Auren had removed her necklace.

“Nothing happened when I waved my wand. Nothing. I knew then, that my necklace was different than Lizzie’s bracelet.”

“My bracelet?” Lizzie was shocked.

Neville scowled at Lizzie. “You’re not supposed to tell anyone about your bracelet, Lizzie.”

Lizzie flushed. “I just told my roommates, that my mum made it for me to protect me.”

“But Lizzie can do magic without her bracelet. I saw that.” Matilda whispered. “She had lost it after a shower and just _accioed_ it.”

She wiped her cheeks, drying new tears.

“You lost your bracelet?” Pansy stared at Lizzie. “Don’t let that hear your father, ever. He’d have a fit.”

Lizzie mumbled something and looked at her feet.

“I knew something was wrong, and then the headaches started.” Matilda continued.

“When did you get headaches?” Neville asked.

“If I did too much magic, or too little. I asked my mother about it, and she told me that the headaches would stop, that it was just a normal part of adjusting to doing intentional magic instead of accidental.” Matilda hung her head.

“I knew she lied, though.” Her voice was barely audible. “No one else had headaches, just me.”

“I am glad you found out. I do not want this.” She pointed at the necklace. “Will my headaches stop now?”

“Possibly.” Neville felt for the poor girl who had been an unwilling accomplice in her parents’ desperate attempts to ‘heal’ her.

“Your necklace…. “ Pansy’s voice wavered for a moment. “Your necklace syphoned magic from another child to you. You don’t have magic yourself, Matilda.”

Matilda let out a huge sigh.

“I think I knew even before I was bitten,” the little girl wrung her hands. “I dreamed of another girl, a happy laughing girl. She played with paper birds. But when I came to Hogwarts, that stopped, she became sad and listless, and ever since the incident with the mandrake roots, I dreamt of another girl.”

Neville’s eyes met his wife’s. The name ‘Emma’ hung between them without being spoken aloud.

“Did your father know about your headaches?” Lizzie asked. “Headaches are so awful. My dad has migraine, but migraine is even worse.”

“My father told me, not to act as if… He didn’t believe me.”

“Or he didn’t want to believe you, because then he would have had to accept that he endangered his own daughter with his schemes.” Neville wished he had punched Fawley more than once.

He edged closer. “Matilda, I’ll tell you something.”

He looked at her little face, intent that she would understand. “I came late into my magic. My grandmother and my uncle feared that I was a squib and they tried all kind of things to trigger my magic.”

Matilda looked at him with big round eyes.

“One day, my uncle became impatient and he seized me and threw me out of the window…. From the fourth floor.” He could feel Pansy’s eyes on him. He had never understood until she had told him. It had been the first case where they worked together.

“I managed to levitate myself, just a few inches above the ground. My family laughed with relief, that I was not a squib. And for years and years I would tell this story and laugh about it.”

“That is awful, Uncle Neville.” Lizzie gaped.

Neville nodded. “What would have happened if I had not found magic in that moment?”

“You might have died.” Matilda’s lips trembled.

“Yes. I might have died. Tells you much about my family’s idea on how much a squib or a muggle is worth.”

Pansy laid her hand on his arm and pressed it in sympathy.

“Magic is not everything. It’s certainly not more important than life.” Neville could still get angry at the Travers family, even after all these years.

The girl’s eyes misted over again.

“Matilda, why don’t you come with me and we’ll try to sort this all out.” Pansy pressed her hand. “And I’ll tell you all about how my friends Hermione and Draco found out how important squibs are.”

“Squibs are important?” Matilda asked.

“You can be a bridge. The Magic itself wants a connection between wizards, witches and muggles.” Neville told her.

Matilda drew a deep breath.

“Mum and dad found that out? Is that grandmadam’s project on the impact of muggleborns?”

“Grandmadam?” Pansy was shaken by a sudden short laugh.

“Robert invented that,” Lizzie told them.

Pansy took Matilda’s hand to help her up. “Now, come with me. Poor thing, you must be exhausted.”

Matilda hesitated.

“This is not an arrest. We don’t arrest children. You need a place to stay, and Neville and I have a big house.”

Matilda reached out for Pansy’s hand and stood.

“And who knows,” Neville said. “It is high time anyway, that we do something for the education of children without magic..”

They left the hospital wing and Pansy prepared a portkey to transport Matilda with her. She kissed Neville goodbye.

“See you later, I’ll tuck the little girl in in our guest room.”

Neville accompanied Lizzie to the Hufflepuff common room, and they met Rina and John, who had just finished rounds.

“Are you going to tell us about the elves now, Uncle Neville,” Rina asked. “And I think I still didn’t get every detail about that conspiracy.”

Neville sighed. “Only if you promise not to tell anyone. I’m sure it will be all in the prophet on Monday, the latest.”

He cast a _muffliato_ around them and told them everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story about Neville is canon, just saying.
> 
> I think Neville really was held back by his grandmother's expectations.
> 
> I headcanon that he only gained confidence in fifth year with Harry's DA lesson and the got a real boost in 6th year, when he finally got a wand that was his own and not handed down to him.
> 
> Considering that Fawley - this rotten excuse for a father - is my own invention I am irrationally angry at him.


	93. Christmas with Colin (December 25, 2005)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a late breakfast on Christmas day with the new baby and some unexpected visitors.

Draco was tempted to throw his mother-in-law out of the kitchen. She had volunteered to help only to then complain that Draco and Hermione had changed the height of the kitchen desk and that it was not comfortable for cutting vegetables.

“Of course, we have changed it,” Draco told her. “I’m almost one foot taller than you. It’s me who is mostly in the kitchen, and when Hermione helps, she just adjusts the desk with magic.”

He shoved the bread in the oven with more force than necessary and set the timer. Half an hour and then they could start their Christmas breakfast.

“Sorry,” Monica said. “That makes sense and it is your house now.” She laughed.

“It’s our first Christmas together, I want it to be perfect. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Monica laughed. “Wendell and I had a huge fight on our first Christmas. On how to decorate the Christmas tree of all things.”

“I see, in true Christmas spirit.”

The doorbell rang and Draco went to open the door, wondering who it might be. They had invited Prudy to come over, but she would just apparate. Hermione had adjusted the wards to her.

Pansy stood in front of the door, in festive attire, every hair in place, only her eyes gave away that she was under strain. She had conjured an umbrella charm against the slight drizzle.

“Pansy?”

“Can I get sanctuary for the day?”

“What happened?”

“My mother … “

Draco swung the door wide and let her in.

Pansy entered and waved her wand to dry off the remaining drizzle.

She entered the living room, where Rina sat with Wendell, studying her Christmas present, a set of simple puzzles with muggle fairy tales. One of them was the tale of the girl with the raven brothers. It was one of Rina’s favourites.

“Hermione is upstairs, swaddling Colin. We’ll start with a late breakfast soon. You can join us.”

“My mother has invited Marcus Flint and Hermes Trevors for dinner this evening, and I just need a respite before I weather her latest attempt at getting me married.”

“What are your objections against the gentlemen apart from the fact that they are not your choice,” Wendell asked.

“Marcus Flint has atrocious teeth,” Pansy remarked.

“That should be held against him.” Wendell agreed.

“And Hermes Trevors is the eldest son and heir of Alkibiades Trevors, the man a colleague of mine arrested for murder. It was a case I helped with. I don’t know what possessed my mother to invite him of all people.”

Wendell shook his head. “How old are you? 25? 26? Hardly an old spinster! You wizarding people are so old-fashioned. It’s ridiculous.”

“A colleague? Was that Longbottom?” Draco tried to make an innocent face.

Pansy’s cheeks flushed and she shot Draco an angry look. He grinned. He just had fun seeing Pansy squirm. He had lost his bet with Hermione after all, that Pansy would find her courage to ask Longbottom out before Christmas.

“Neville, love, it’s Neville, not Longbottom. You should stop calling him by his last name.” Hermione entered the living room, holding Colin on her arm. At almost three months he had filled out already and was just short of being an adorably chubby baby.

“I won’t have Rina continue to call one of my best friends by his last name. And if you keep calling him Longbottom, she’ll just keep imitating you.”

“He calls me Malfoy,” Draco pouted. “You call me Malfoy. What if Malfoy is Colin’s first word?”

“You wish,” Hermione said. “It should be obvious that his first word will be Granger.”

She changed Colin’s seat on her arm, so that he was parallel to her.

“Look your godmother is here!”

Draco had to laugh, seeing the exact same pair of eyes his wife had in the face of his son was still funny to him. His son’s main preoccupation at the moment seemed to be looking around, as if he wanted to drink in every information.

“Maybe his first word will be Pansy. She comes over often enough.”

“Hi Colin,” Pansy said. Her face had softened, and she reached out, giving his nose a tiny poke.

“I’m partial to Granger being his first word, though.” Draco said.

“Why?” Monica asked.

“I would love if that would make it to the gossipy parts of the Daily Prophet and if certain people would hear about it.” Draco had to smile just at the idea of his father seething about a grandson who looked just like his despised daughter-in-law and calling her Granger.

“As much as I love the idea, I have to admit that it is unlikely,” Hermione sighed. “M and P are the easiest sounds to imitate. And it’s far too early for first words, anyway.”

“Colin is boring,” Rina put in. “He just cries and burps.”

Draco thought it funny, that Rina played it cool. They had a photo where she sat with Colin on her lap, all excited, and that proved her so wrong.

“And he smiles,” Pansy said. “Don’t you Colin?” She reached out and Hermione gave Colin to her and as if on cue, he did indeed smile at Pansy’s friendly face.

“Shall we look around?” Pansy cooed.

And she walked around the room and showed all kind of things to Colin. Hermione let herself fall on the sofa beside her father and Rina.

“I’m starving.”

They heard a slight pop in the hallway.

“We’re in here, Prudy,” Draco called out. The door opened again and Prudy stuck her head in.

“Tatki is here as well,” she said. Draco waved them in.

Tatki grinned widely, as he entered.

“The baby has been safely delivered,” he pronounced proudly. “Her name is Rachel. Mother, child and father are well.”

The wonderful news was greeted with joy and clapped hands. Draco shared a smile with Hermione. Luna really deserved all the happiness in the world.

“I bet the baby is already surrounded by an abundance of limpiepinkies,” he said.

“Blaise said you can come next week to toast the New Year and the baby.” Tatki informed them.

Tatki was given the baby cover Hermione had prepared and vanished after a quick handshake with Prudy.

Prudy followed Draco into the kitchen. She insisted that Draco explained what he had prepared for breakfast and what he intended for dinner. Prudy listened to him intently, her ears perked up.

“Chicken stuffed with lemon?” Her ears dropped and she shook her head.

“You poke the lemon and the juice leaks out while it’s in the oven, and you remove the lemon later. It’s really good. You’ll like it.” Draco told her.

He made some early preparations for dinner, humming happily.

“Let’s just agree to disagree on lemon, eh? How long is your holiday?”

“I’ll stay until New Year’s Eve if that is o.k. with you,” Prudy’s ears twitched.

“Fine” Draco told her.

“I wanted to try …” she hesitated and inhaled deeply. “I was thinking about visiting a house in Wiltshire, we both know, and see how the elves fare there.”

Draco frowned.

Prudy raised her shoulders, uncertainty on her face. “The elves from that house didn’t make an official appeal for a contract.”

“Oh,” Draco was taken aback. “I had just assumed that they contacted another lawyer, because my …. their master would never let them approach Hermione.”

Prudy shook her head. “No, they didn’t approach anyone, and I worry about them.”

“I am sorry,” Draco told her. “Pansy wrote to the lady of said house. She tried to be circumspect and tell her about Colin, but the owl returned, letter unopened.”

“I doubt she did that by choice,” Prudy patted his arm.

“I know she did not do that by choice.” Draco had been angry for days.

“I, myself, haven’t tried,” he added. “I don’t want to trigger anything.”

“And you shouldn’t. I know you can’t do anything about it.” Prudy’s ears dropped. “I fear I won’t be able to contact any of the elves.”

“Just tell Hermione if there is anything she can do. You know, she would do anything.”

Prudy sighed. “Sometimes it is just hard being patient all the time. I had hoped that …”

Before Draco could ask her, what patience had to do with it and what she hoped, the oven chimed, and Draco took the bread out of the oven.

“Here, the waiting for that was worth it, I am sure. Try, but don’t burn your mouth.” Steam rose from the fresh piece of bread Draco had broken off with the oven cloth.

Prudy waved her hand over it to cool it with a charm, took it and nibbled at the bread. Her face lit up.

Draco smiled. “No lemon, just some nuts.”

He called everyone to table, and they had a lively breakfast. Prudy made faces at Colin and the baby gurgled happily, even reaching out to the elf and taking her hand, holding on to it in a firm grip. Prudy teared up and did not dare to move her hand, until Pansy took pity and slowly disentangled them from each other.

Pansy talked about the department’s plans to drive off the dementors on Azkaban. She had delved into studying the _patronus_ charm.

“Have you managed conjuring a corporal _patronus_ , yet?” Hermione asked.

Pansy shook her head. “That is actually why Ha… why I was picked to do the research. There is hope that I will manage and that we might come closer to an explanation why some people have difficulties.”

“You know I won’t throw you out for saying his name.” Draco shook his head at Pansy. “No dementors at Azkaban is a splendid idea. I’ll give Potter that.”

Wendell who obviously had too much punch already began to tell silly jokes, and Monica and Draco discussed muggle politics. Pansy taught Hermione the special Parkinson charm for shoes.

“You’ll never have aching feet,” Pansy swore.

Monica sighed. “That would be really practical.”

Draco savoured every minute of it. It was completely different to dignified Christmas luncheon at the Manor. He reached for Hermione’s hand and pressed it.

“You know,” he whispered in her ear. “Nothing about this is how I would have imagined Christmas with my own family to be when I was a child.”

Hermione leaned over and kissed him. “Maybe you didn’t have enough imagination.”

“Or maybe it should be more widely known that people make you happy, not presents.”

“I like my present.” She fingered the fine silver necklace Draco had bought her, shortly after she had told him she was pregnant again. It was just a chain of rings of different sizes, that could hold small pendants. For Christmas Draco had bought two pendants, one with a green malachite and one with a garnet, one for each child.

The doorbell rang again, and this time Hermione went, a puzzled look on her face. Draco saw Pansy colour when Longbottom’s voice drifted through the door.

“Nonsense,” he heard Hermione say. “Of course, you must come in.”

For a short moment, Pansy looked panicked, but by the time the door to the dining room opened, she had herself in control.

“Ah, Neville,” Draco greeted him. “On the run from potential marriage matches?”

Longbottom had stopped in the door frame. A decidedly sheepish look had entered his face.

“Oh, hello,” his voice sounded rough. He harrumphed and nodded at everyone.

He finally blinked at Draco.

“How would you know I am on the run from being towed in for marriage? And why do you call me Neville, all of a sudden?”

Rina squealed and pointed at him. “Longbottom.”

“That’s why. Hermione insists that Rina only calls you Longbottom because I do.” Draco shrugged. “Fetch yourself a chair and sit down.”

Longbottom waved his wand, summoned a chair and sat at Hermione’s side as far away from Pansy as he could get.

“I lied to grandma. I told her I would go to Harry. That is the only excuse she would accept.” Longbottom covered his face with his palms. “She invited three incredibly vapid young women.”

“Who?”

Neville pressed his lips together. “I am not going to tell. I shouldn’t say they are vapid anyway. It’s just….”

Hermione scoffed. “I can easily picture them, even without names.”

She made a show of hanging herself at Neville’s arm. “Oh Neville, please tell me again, how you killed that snake.” She batted her eyelashes at him.

Neville flushed.

“So, why didn’t you just go to Harry?” Pansy asked.

“Because all the Weasleys will be there, and Molly Weasley has also decided it is time I marry, and I suspect there are even more vapid women waiting for me at Grimmauld’s…. Percy’s sister-in-law….“ He stopped himself again.

“Granger, apparently we run a sanctuary for victims of relentless matchmakers.” Draco smirked. “Do you think we should take a fee?”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at him. “For the sanctuary, or for refraining from matchmaking ourselves?”

Neville and Pansy groaned in unison and stopped immediately when they realised.

Monica clapped her hands. “I have a perfect solution. You two just tell your impatient relatives and friends that you date each other and then they stop pestering you.”

Not to topple over in laughter was an effort, especially when Hermione pressed his hand in her own attempt to stay calm. It was Rina who saved Neville and Pansy from death by embarrassment and Hermione and Draco from death by suppressed laughter.

“You promised, we’d sing after breakfast, dad.” Rina pouted.

In every other circumstance, Draco would have considered the next hour torturous. Longbottom might be an accomplished auror, but he could not sing and it turned out that Prudy’s voice was squeaky and sounded like a clarinet out of tune, but they both sang with much more gusto than talent until Colin put an end to the noise with a hungry wail. Although his ears rang like someone had used them as a drum, it was the best Christmas of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of my readers told me, that they would not mind some Dramione fluff.... 
> 
> So here, you have it, peppered with Panville. 
> 
> This is the last of the flashback chapters, put in because there is some impact on the present.


	94. What do we want?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets Harry and they talk about the evidence for his exoneration.

Draco had made himself comfortable. The invisibility cloak was folded on his lap and on top of it lay a book, one of Draco’s favourites. Since he had known it for ages, he would not be annoyed at being interrupted in his reading.

Hermione and the children had gone to the British Museum. There was nothing like the British Museum to cheer up Colin, and Meg could satisfy some of her insane curiosity there far better than with dangerous magical objects. Robert would probably wield his crayons and produce some pictures Draco and Hermione would later praise.

Draco had his phone on the ready. They had decided that he would call if Potter was difficult. Draco had mixed feelings about meeting Potter alone. It would give him the opportunity to verify his latest suspicions, but on the other hand, Potter had become such an expert at manipulation that Draco genuinely doubted if he were able to discern Potter’s agenda. He still had the feeling that Potter had laid some sort of trap when he had been at their house three weeks ago.

Draco could not really concentrate on his book, although he still chuckled at ‘good boots lasted for years and years’ and was relieved when he saw Potter approaching. His wife and his daughter were with him, and they were fighting, or maybe simply discussing. The Weaselette turned away just as Potter wanted to kiss her cheek, and his kiss fell on air. Draco smirked.

He schooled his expressions when Potter approached. They nodded at each other and Potter took a seat on the bench, just far enough away, that it would not look like they were friends, but not at the other end of the bench either. Draco would have sat at the exact same spot if he had been second to arrive. Potter looked as if he had not slept one minute. His face was greyish. But Draco was not inclined to let him off the hook. Not if his suspicion turned out to be true.

“Congratulations are in order I was given to understand. You dismantled the conspiracy and the arrest went well. I bet the Prophet’s headlines will be ‘Harry Potter saves the day’.”

Potter grimaced. “You know very well that I was not alone.”

“I did not want to insinuate that the Prophet will in any way convey my thoughts on the subject.” Draco answered.

Potter pursed his lips. “Leave it to you to disguise an insult within an ostensible compliment.”

Draco shrugged. “Isn’t it funny, how words can have a completely different meaning depending on the context?”

“It’s fun to eulogize, someone you despise,” he sang. Potter would remember that song from Neville’s and Pansy’s wedding.

Potter inhaled deeply.

“Here.” Draco handed him the cloak. “Your cloak.”

Potter took it. “Did it help your son with whatever it was he wanted to find out?”

“He was successful, but he did not like it. I guess you could probably give a tale or two of the times where you found out something you’d rather didn’t know.”

Draco looked at Potter’s face as if it would give him the answer to the question that had haunted him the whole night. Potter frowned and nodded.

Draco sighed. “It’s still something that should be known. I just wish, it had not been my son who lost his innocence in the process.”

Potter looked at him, questions in his face.

“I told Colin that he’d better bid his time or what he found out will be drowned in the tale of Potter saving wizarding kind. Yet again.”

Potter scoffed. “I don’t need that kind of attention.”

Draco laughed. “I know, that is the only thing that will make all these articles in the Prophet halfway bearable. That I know you hate it.”

Potter scowled.

“You’re not making this any easier, you know.” Potter told him.

Draco smiled, kept silent and gave a half-shrug.

“About the evidence that came up… “. Potter opened his bag, took a short look around to check for muggles and then accioed three books.

Draco leafed through them.

“Vinicius, Snape’s annotations and Slughorn’s research. I can hardly believe that these people were intelligent enough to make an elaborate plan of how to get rid of muggleborns and give their magic to squibs, without anyone being the wiser and yet, they did not destroy the evidence of their plan. I mean Sloane is a clever lawyer, but he does not think out of his own box. And the others? Fawley, Greengrass?”

“That is because it was not their plan.” Potter’s voice was flat.

Potter took back Snape’s notes and opened them at an earmarked page. “Snape did not only make notes on his observations on Vinicius.”

Draco snatched the book out of his hands and straightened the earmark out, shooting a dirty look at Potter. To think that Potter had been friends to Hermione. Earmarking books! Not only any book but unique handwritten notes. Draco clicked his tongue.

He opened the notes and the handwriting of Severus Snape gave him a slight pang.

_The Dark Lord has taken over the ministry and the ministry has decided on a muggleborn registration. He might think he is subtle about it, but the fact that Minister Thicknesse is his pet is a secret that is not very well kept. And the Dark Lord does not even want it to be hidden. He wants to rule through fear and terror. And the seemingly clandestine taking over of the ministry, everyone knows about is what passes as cleverness for him and many of the others._

_Fear and terror might work for some time, but it seems to me that subtlety would work much better. For all he thinks of himself as a devious Slytherin, the Dark Lord is not that sophisticated. He should learn to guide people through propaganda._

_If I were to solve the muggleborn and squib problem, I would hit the muggleborns with a perpetual **praeda** curse, and find a way to channel their magic … Objects of Goblin silver, made ready to absorb spells, mixed with the silver of the occamy eggshells that were used for the **praeda** perpetual should work fine… After a decade or two of muggleborns no longer surfacing and, even more important, the disappearance of squibs – always a cause of huge anxiety and horror for the parents –, it might even be possible to share this solution with the wizarding public and let oneself be praised as a saviour. One probably should work with the Muggle government to make testing for magic compulsory._

_This would be the ultimate irony, of course, because this so-called saviour would doom wizards and witches to die out in the long run…. When I look at the Dark Lord I wonder if we should not die out…. It is maybe fortunate that he is so eager to feel the rush his power gives him, that he is not one for the long run._

Draco let Snape’s notes sink on his lap.

“That man….” He struggled for words. “He really was the most brilliant mind. It was a stroke of luck for wizards and witches, that he ended up fighting against Voldemort.”

“I shudder at the thought of Snape orchestrating something like this. He would not have made the kind of mistakes that helped me unearth the conspiracy….” Potter had closed his eyes.

If Potter had known this passage from Snape’s notes, he would not have been in the dark for such a long time. Maybe Draco’s suspicion was not correct after all. Suddenly, Draco was glad, that he had not yet told Hermione about his nagging doubt. He randomly opened the book at another page.

_Today I followed my hunch on Draco’s true allegiance. I told him about the **scutum** spell. He will try to design a potion. I hope that his power over the elder wand works to our advantage. Albus really should have not let himself disarmed by Draco. It complicates things…_

Draco wondered if Snape had written anything about the fateful day at the manor. He leafed through the notes.

_Potter narrowly escaped the Dark Lord today and Draco escaped death by a hair’s breadth. The boy wonder had managed to get himself, Weasley and the Granger girl caught. Draco bought time and called me. Barmy Bella tortured the Granger girl and Draco put her under a **scutum**. All could have been lost. When I arrived, Lucius, desperate for getting back into the graces of the Dark Lord, had called him, but Potter had fled already … The Dark Lord almost killed the Malfoys on the spot. It was only the fact that he finally learned that the elder wand supposedly is buried with Albus that saved the Malfoys. Little does he know that his enemy now holds the crucial wand. I loaned my occlumency to Draco via the **praeda** curse and somehow, we got away alive. I even planted the idea in the Dark Lords head to test Draco’s potion. Sometimes he is so gullible, it is embarrassing. Draco needs to recuperate first, though. He almost lost his magic over casting the **scutum** for such a long time. I don’t know how he managed. It probably was an effect of his mastery over the elder wand._

There was no mention of Draco’s attempt to brew Phoenix Potion again. Draco cursed the fact that he had used Gregory’s wand the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. Everything about his second attempt was so foggy in his mind that he could barely form sentences about the vague facts that were in his mind.

Draco reached the end of the notes.

_The end is near, I am sure. I just got word that there was a break-in at Gringotts and if that was not the Potter boy, I’ll eat the talking hat. The Dark Lord is restless. If he feels that he is closer to death I cannot say. I prepared a portrait in a rush in case I won’t have a chance to tell Potter about his destiny personally._

_If everything goes according to plan, Harry Potter will be dead, the part of Voldemort’s soul in him gone. Then I will rob the Dark Lord of his magic, be it by Phoenix Potion or by the scutum I encased in the occamy egg. And then I will shoot him with a muggle gun._

_Albus is optimistic as always. He thinks there is a reasonable chance that Potter might survive. I wouldn’t mind Lily’s son to survive, but I really wonder under what bizarre circumstance Albus thinks this is possible._

_I will leave these notes dosed in Occulto Potion and in case they ever are found I bequeath them to my godson Draco Malfoy, provided he makes it alive out of this mess. I will also leave a vial with my memories on Draco. It may help him, when the war is over. I hope he gets his girl. Someone should be happy after all this mess and it might as well be him._

Draco swallowed hard. He wished he had curbed his curiosity and had opened the notes when Hermione was with him and not now in Potter’s presence. He snapped the notebook shut.

“Severus was surprisingly open about his disdain for Voldemort. I bet he protected his secrets additionally. They can’t have been lying around at his home. I mean not many people know about Occulto potion and the counter potion is incredibly difficult to brew, and you would have to suspect that he used it in the first place, but still….”

Potter licked his lips. “Snape warded the part of his home, where he put the most important secrets. Conditional wards….”

“Conditional wards, wow,” Draco was impressed, if not surprised.

“The condition he set was the reunion of Hermione with her parents.” Potter’s face was an unreadable mask. “He apparently had decided that Voldemort’s death was too risky.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “That means that there was evidence in my favour available at my trial. I thought the aurors had searched Snape’s home.”

“It was one of my first assignments as a new auror.” Potter admitted. “But I went there in August 1999. I went again later after your trial, but by that time the notes were gone. But I could have known they existed. Snape’s portrait at least knew that he had a copy of Vinicius and had done research on that.”

“I’ll give you that, Severus’s portrait was done very sloppily and quickly. The portrait probably has no idea where he put the notes.”

“Sloane found the notes when he went looking for evidence to use against you. He gave them to Slughorn at some point. He admitted as much during the first interrogation.”

“And Slughorn knew how to counter the Occulto potion. Both must have suspected that the pages of Severus’ notes held more than just random scribbling.” That was the usual effect of the Occulto potion.

“In September 2002, Slughorn was experimenting with the spell cleaning potion. He must have unlocked the notes shortly before that.”

Draco scoffed. “So, Slughorn actually knew I had defected…. And chose not to tell it… Just to finally get fame for inventing a new potion. Not that I am surprised. He was a shitty head of House, loyal only to himself, not a true snake.”

He studied Potter’s face, but the head auror stayed calm. Draco reluctantly admired how Potter had learned to school his features over the years. He wondered if he should just ask and see how Potter would react.

“This is enough to exonerate you, certainly in addition to the Phoenix Potion notes.” Potter took of his glasses and began to fiddle with them. “How far have you come with deciphering your recipe?”

“Not yet finished.”

Potter rubbed his glasses on his shirt.

“I scanned the text and gave the file to your cousin. He’ll run some programs over it.”

“Dudley?”

“Do you have another cousin?” Draco smirked and Potter rolled his eyes. “This is the one who owes us, because we helped his son break the curse that was put on him by people who used Snape’s notes. Remember? The notes you knew existed.”

“And didn’t find.” Potter pressed his lips together.

“Anyway, the recipe for Phoenix Potion is out now, isn’t it? Pansy and Neville told us.” Draco was not sure, if deciphering the notes was more than an intellectual exercise now.

“Their imitation is inferior. Doesn’t last as long as yours.”

“Isn’t that interesting,” Draco mused. He felt smug.

“You can be proud. It took Slughorn and Helena Prewett years to imitate the Phoenix Potion, even when they had all the ingredients.”

Potter inhaled slowly. “All this is evidence in what probably will be known as the _praeda_ case. But afterwards it is yours. Snape wanted you to have that. And the content will be common knowledge before that.”

He put his glasses back on his nose. His green eyes suddenly focused on Draco with a piercing clear gaze.

“There is more.” Potter’s voice sounded strange, as if he forced every word out of his mouth.

He accioed another item from his bag. A vial. Tendrils of grey-silver mist slowly moved in the vial.

“This in itself would also have been enough to show that you did not lie.”

Draco took the vial and held it gingerly in his hands, twirling it around. He shrouded himself in silence. Again, he was tempted to just ask.

“They were attuned to Hermione. I found them by accident when I searched Snape’s house the second time. A random ray of sunshine reflected on my glasses.”

Draco’s voice sounded flat in his own ears. “Let me guess. There is a memory where Severus and I discuss how I could not access the Room of Requirement and what to do about it. And this is how you knew there was a second batch, before you arrested Slaone.”

Potter nodded. “You suspected already.” His cheeks burned. The rest of his skin still held the greyish hue of his fatigue and he would have looked alarmingly unhealthy if not for his clear green eyes.

Draco balled his hands to fists. Potter did not flinch. He just swallowed as if he expected a punch any time. Draco was not about to become physically violent though. “I was lying awake all night, trying to understand how you could possibly know about the second batch, when I barely remember myself. Severus’ memories or his notes were the only possible explanation.”

He slowly unclenched his hands and balled them again.

“When did you find the memories?”

“September 2002,” Potter’s voice was barely audible.

It still felt as if he had shouted at the top of his lungs. The words pierced their way from Draco’s ears to his mind. For a second everything before his eyes went black and his ears rang.

When his eyesight had returned to normal, Potter still looked at him with his green eyes, as if waiting for the hit. Draco decided Potter could get a punch if he wanted one, but he would be hit where it hurt most.

“That was even before Rina’s birth.” Draco shuddered violently. “You somehow tricked Hermione into touching the vial. And then you deliberately held back the evidence, evidence that might have meant a lift of the contact ban.”

Potter didn’t say anything, but his eyes told Draco that he had guessed correctly. Leave it to the bastard. He still did not flinch.

“Tell me, Potter, what did your elf had to say to all that?”

Potter blinked several times, the mask on his face shattered by his surprise.

“Kreacher? He praised you to the heavens. Draco Malfoy here, Draco Malfoy there. He kept telling me how noble you were, how you had fought Voldemort, just like Regulus Black, how much you loved Hermione, that there was no way that you had brewed _amortentia_. He drove me nuts.”

“Thus, he ensured that you would stay right on the path of betraying Hermione. I thought as much.”

Potter frowned, puzzlement in his eyes. “What does my elf have to do with this?”

Draco laughed. “Everything Potter. You did not find that vial by accident. I bet some elf took care that you found it. We were all caught up in the undoing of the elves’ curse, just as we were caught up in the undoing of the horcruxes.”

Potter listened while Draco explained, his eyes widening with horror.

“Is that what Colin found out?”

Draco nodded. He smiled at Potter with narrowed eyes. The sort of smile he saved for customers who wanted to talk to the manager. People Malcolm usually sent to him exactly for that smile. He was not trying to be friendly after all.

“I wondered about the betrayal. My mind reeled the whole night.”

He stuck out his finger, pointed at Potter. “Weasel and you, you were convinced that I had drugged Hermione. So where was the betrayal? One could argue that you handled that badly, but after I had come to terms that the Weasel King did not plant that cauldron, I never doubted you were convinced.”

“It was only last night, that I understood. You learned that I had defected, it was not a question of believe anymore, or benefit of the doubt. You knew. You **knew** , and you kept that knowledge to yourself. Your taking of the vial that was meant for Hermione, withholding it. That was the betrayal. You were the real betrayer of Hermione’s trust, not the Weasel.”

If Potter had looked greyish before, he now looked waxen.

Draco was relentless. “The elves just took care that everything would be in place. The Hogwarts elves must have known about Severus’ notes and his memory cash. The **decision** to betray Hermione though…. That was yours and yours alone.”

Time to prepare for the hit. “Tell me, Potter. What was it? The fact that you had saved wizarding kind and that you had everything you wanted within your grasp? Did you think that you had deserved it all? Maybe you even did.”

He showed his teeth in a wide grin. “A beautiful wife and the family you always wanted? All a happy circle? And Hermione safely wed to a friend, someone who would love her, but not too passionately? Always close to you? Ready to back you on every turn? And then I came along and took that away. I, of all people. How did I dare break into your enchanted circle?”

“You know, how our lives are sometimes defined by small things. My father might have sent me to Durmstrang and doomed me.”

He moved in for the kill, leaning closer to Potter. “Tell me Potter, would you have courted Ginny, if she had not been a Weasley? What would you have done if Hermione had had a big family? A big family of wizards and witches?” He let his voice drop to a whisper. “Can you even answer that? In your heart of hearts?”

Potter’s face told Draco that his arrow had hit the bull’s eye.

He leaned back again, laughing. “You know, what is best about this? If you had acted differently, I would have had to put up with you being a part of Hermione’s life. And I would have done it for her sake. I gave up everything to be with her, and you would have been a nuisance, but I would have resigned myself to suffer your presence in her life.”

Potter’s cheeks flamed, as if fiendfyre had taken residence there.

“If I know you at all, you probably have worked up the courage to beg her forgiveness. Make amends of some kind. And knowing Hermione she might even grant it.”

He grinned. “But she will never ever forget your betrayal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, this is a long awaited chapter.... I am quite excited about it.


	95. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Draco talks with Harry, Hermione meets Ginny.  
> Harry wants to talk with her about the auror department's official statement on Draco's exoneration.

Colin wanted to discuss the Elgin marbles and why the British Museum hadn’t given them back yet. Hermione felt for him. He always had had a bleeding heart, but right now his prevailing mood seemed to be that everything should be improved at once, the sooner the better. It had taken Hermione decades to learn that most problems would not be solved in a day and if you tried you usually ended up being quite destructive. She remembered her enthusiasm and her engagement for S.P.E.W. It was no surprise that Colin resembled her in his righteous anger.

After discussing the Elgin marbles Colin went on a spree against Romans and Greeks in general and how they had waged war, possessed slaves and were generally the worst.

“They were people, Colin,” Hermione told him. She supressed a sigh. Thankfully, Robert was not up to any mischief. He sat on one of the benches and drew, while Meg studied the explanations of the exhibits.

Colin scowled. “But everyone admires them. They built streets, they built bridges…. They were so advanced….”

Hermione’s heart clenched. “You can’t punish any of the Romans for being slavers, Colin. They are long dead.”

She laid her hand on his shoulder, but his scowl did not ease.

“You know people are good and bad, some are better, some are worse.”

“How do you live with that?” His face was pained. “How do you live with the fact that people who made wonderful things were also terrible? It seems like everybody is just hypocritical.”

Hermione was at a loss for words at first. She thought about what to say.

“Because most people are not terrible all the time. When you make your first mistake, your first real mistake and you realise that at some point you have to live with yourself and forgive yourself, that is probably the moment when you develop understanding for other people’s mistakes.”

She sighed. “And at some point, you just accept it. All we can do is try. And maybe avoid the big mistakes, the sins, the atrocities. Fight against a system that is unfair.”

Colin pursed his lips.

“I honestly have no better answer, sorry, Colin.”

“If you say that…. “ Colin’s voice shook. “You’re supposed to be a fighter for equality, fairness and all that.”

Hermione closed her eyes shortly. “And sometimes I am also short-tempered, impatient, bossy and an intellectual snob.”

“Sometimes, … “ Colin scoffed. “that’s a lie.”

Hermione laughed. “And sometimes I just let it lie and curl up in a corner and read a good book.”

“Hmm,” was all Colin said. Hermione suspected that this would not be the last time they had a discussion about how to change the world.

“Hermione?” she heard a voice behind her.

She turned and saw Ginny. She had not expected to see Harry’s wife in Muggle London. She probably had accompanied Harry.

“Yes?” Hermione angled her phone from the back pockets of her jeans and checked if Draco had sent a message. There was just a short. ‘ _P arrived’_.

Ginny licked her lips. “Can we talk?”

“We’ve not decided yet when to throw a party for Draco’s 40th birthday,” Hermione told her.

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “This is not about exchanging dates.”

The redhead inhaled slowly. “I want to apologize.”

Hermione frowned.

“I should never have let you battle dragon pox alone. No matter what I thought about that _amortentia_ business.”

Hermione studied her former friend. What had instigated this?

“You don’t need to apologize just because some of our goals align,” she finally said. “I know Harry is a good head auror most of the time. And this conspiracy was dangerous.”

She frowned. “Still, I will certainly look into submitting a remonstration to the wizengamot for restraining auror observation, no matter what you say.”

Ginny sighed. “I really just wanted to apologize. I should have kept my suspicions to myself.”

“You should have,” Hermione agreed. “Especially since Neville was right there to show you how to do it.” 

“I don’t really know what got into me. I had managed until then. It was the worst time to blurt out that I did believe Malfoy had dosed you with _amortentia_.”

“I dare say it was your temper,” Hermione told her.

For a moment they just stared at each other.

Ginny arched an eyebrow. “Pott? Kettle?”

They both laughed. Some of the tension left them for as long as they laughed, but when they stopped, awkward silence followed their short respite.

Ginny’s tongue wet her lips again. “I dug into our family history. Aethelwulf the Weasel had two sons.”

Hermione’s ears perked up.

“His son Etienne married his Malfoy cousin, Regine, the daughter of Armand Malfoy and took on his wife’s name. So that leads just back to the main branch.”

“Interesting though. I need to make enquiries about this. Draco swore the Malfoy line had been unbroken since Armand.”

“They might have twisted the truth somewhat. Armand apparently had no other children. And first cousin marriage was forbidden, at least in the Muggle world.”

Hermione scrunched her nose. “It is a bit icky…. But I guess purebloods married cousins quite often…”

“It did happen,” Ginny admitted. “But usually once removed, twice removed or even more….”

“And the other son?” Hermione wanted to know.

“It turned out he was from Aethelwulf’s first marriage. Apparently, he was the first to obtain the land around the Burrow.”

“Damn,” Hermione made a fist. “That leaves the recently arrested Geoffrey Sloane of all people.”

“Sloane?” Ginny’s eyes widened. “Are you telling me that Sloane is one of your candidates for the Malfoy heir?”

“Lucille Malfoy and Stan Sloane in 1458”, Hermione cursed under her breath. “We tried the other leads before that, but they are all dead ends.”

“Shouldn’t he be cooperative?”, Ginny wondered. Her face lit up. “I mean, Harry certainly could put some pressure on him.”

“Even arrested people have rights, you know” Hermione shot an exasperated look at Ginny.

She shook her head and cursed again. “And he has to do it voluntarily. If you pressure him, the curse might not even be lifted. Or at least that is my suspicion. Pureblood family magic has many pitfalls.”

“I am sorry, I don’t really know much about that. The Weasleys do not practice cut out curses.” 

Hermione sucked her lips in to keep herself from voicing the obvious retort. The Weasleys might not practice cut out curses, but they sure knew how to cut out people.

Her phone chimed.

_Potter wants to TTY. Want to come?_

“Apparently, Draco and Harry are through,” Hermione said.

“Did they come to blows?” Ginny’s face was concerned.

Hermione shook her head. “I doubt it. Draco has not punched people he dislikes in ages. Apparently, Harry wants to talk to me.”

Ginny murmured something under her breath that sounded like ‘He’d better’, but Hermione did not ask further questions.

She collected Colin, Meg and Robert and they left the Museum and went to Russell Square.

Harry and Draco sat on a bench half-way in the shade of a tree. It heightened the contrast between the two men. For the tiniest of moments, the blond of her husband’s hair shone as white as it had been in his youth, while Harry’s head was steeped in shadow, and his hair looked ink black.

When she came closer, the illusion of the boys and young men they had been, dissolved.

Harry did not look well. The corner of Draco’s mouth curved upward, just a tiny fraction. It gave him a decidedly smug look. Hermione’s heart picked up a beat. What had happened?

Robert ran to him and showed him the picture he had drawn, and Draco found words of praise for their youngest. For once Robert did not point at Harry and shouted ‘Potter’ and Hermione breathed a short sigh of relief.

“Did he tell you?”, Ginny asked Draco.

Draco nodded. “You knew?”

“Since yesterday,” Ginny’s face was tense.

Draco arched an eyebrow at Harry, but Harry just pressed his lips together.

“Potter showed me his draft of the auror department’s official statement. I think it is adequate, if only after a fashion. You might want to give your twopence.” He told Hermione.

“Come Robert, we’ll play tag. Meg, Colin? Do you want to join? We’ll give mum some space.” Draco stood.

Robert was excited and put his hand in Draco’s and pulled. When they had reached Hermione, Draco told him to wait and bent down and gave her a deep and lingering kiss barely this side of decent in public.

Draco was obviously in a possessive mood. Hermione felt herself blush and her heart beat high in her throat.

Draco searched her face. “I think you need to do this alone, but if not, just call.”

Robert squealed and began to run away, Draco and Colin in hot pursuit.

Hermione sat down on the bench.

“What exactly did you tell Draco?”, she asked. She dreaded the answer.

Harry gave her the parchment that Draco had abandoned on the bench. Ginny stood at Harry’s side, but it felt off, because her body was angled weirdly, not aligned to Harry. She fidgeted.

“Don’t you think it’s better you just tell her?” she hissed.

“I honestly do not know,” Harry answered. His voice sounded rough at the edges.

Hermione had begun to read.

The facts were all in there. That one of the people accused of conspiracy against the ministry had confessed to having framed Draco with the _amortentia_ , that Snape’s notes and memories had been found and were proof that Draco had told the truth in his trial. The auror department voiced regret, that Draco had been sentenced to a contact ban for a sin he did not commit. That he should have been acquitted when he was just given the benefit of the doubt. It went on for some time. Draco had brewed Phoenix Potion, his second batch had been found by Slughorn, ‘deceased former Hogwarts Potions professor’, the conspirators had managed to brew an inferior version.

Auror Harry Potter, now head auror, confessed, that he had suppressed evidence he had found after the Malfoy trial, a vial with the memory stash of Severus Snape. He announced that he would resign as soon as the recent attempt to topple the ministry was dealt with.

… _that he had suppressed evidence_ …

… _memory stash_ …

… _Severus Snape_ ….

Hermione’s head swam and there was darkness before her eyes and her breath left her lungs as if it would never return.

She let the parchment sink on her lap. For a moment, the rage in her breast was so overwhelming that she thought she would faint, like that day, long ago, when Draco and she had been separated. Her perception of the world around her reduced to the rough feel of the parchment at her fingertips. She let her fingers dance on the parchment, lightly like the feet of mice, probing at which point she would no longer feel it.

She jumped up, her anger suddenly urging her to move, pumping fire through her veins.

She rolled the parchment and her hand clenched around the roll, scrunching it.

Suddenly, tears flooded her eyes and ran down her cheeks. The drops were so heavy and big that they splashed on her, on the bench, on the parchment in her hands.

“Traitor,” she screamed, “traitor.”

She realised that she had raised her hand as if to hit Harry. Harry had not even raised his hands in defence. Snow held more colour than his face.

As suddenly as it had started, the flood of tears stopped. She stared at the circlets of water that darkened the parchment. The ink shone through and became smudged. Suddenly she remembered what Draco had said last night, when they had finally fallen into bed. _Was that mentioned in my trial?_

She let her hands sink. From the corner of her eyes she could see Ginny. But she was only a blur.

“When did you find the memories? Did you have them the whole time?” her voice sounded hoarse, as if she had cried for hours. Maybe she had.

“September 2002,” Harry had raised his face, looking up. “But they were stolen from me. I only got them back yesterday.”

“Damn you, Harry, damn you.”

She stared at him. His green eyes were locked on her. The frame of his glasses stood out around his wide green eyes.

For a long time, they did not say anything. Hermione could not be sure, but she thought Harry’s breathing had stopped completely. She let her eyes wander to Ginny who had put her fist in her mouth, her face pained.

“When you were at our house, you said you don’t know if you would have acted differently…” Hermione drew a ragged breath. “Right there, Harry, right there. There is the point where you could have acted differently. Even if I had been a complete stranger it would have been wrong. Even considering I pressured you into giving evidence you should have given anyway.”

She wiped her cheeks. The worst was that a tiny part of her was not even surprised. Ever since Harry had been at their house three weeks ago, she had wondered why he seemed to have such a bad conscience.

“Why don’t you even apologise? It wasn’t a complete stranger, it was me? I was your friend, Harry.”

“I fear, that you might think…” he stuttered.

He started again. “If I apologize, I might give the impression that I think I have a chance at being forgiven. And I know there is no chance.”

Hermione tried to decipher his face. “Did you tell anyone about this?”

He shook his head.

“You carried this secret around for years?”

Hermione let her gaze wander to Ginny and wondered how she felt. The sun played in her beautiful red hair, her fist had unclenched. Her arm hung at her side.

Draco had easily forgiven Hermione for keeping her pressure on Harry a secret. But she had done that for Draco.

“I am deeply sorry, Hermione. This was the greatest mistake of my life and it had consequences I would have never dreamt of. If I had looked for Snape’s notes, if I had looked into the _amortentia_ framing, if I still had had you as a friend, this whole conspiracy might have never happened, and little Emma might be alive.”

Hermione frowned. “You can’t know that. Don’t take blame for a murder you didn’t commit.”

Her voice dropped. “But you can take blame for what you knew. Even if there had been no consequences at all, it would have been wrong to withhold evidence, to betray me. That the contact ban was not lifted, that Draco was not there for the birth of our first child, these are the consequences you could have known about. The effects of your betrayal were right before your eyes. You saw us suffer through them. You knew how I struggled. Or you could have known if you had just looked.”

Silence settled between them, and they stared at each other. Hermione wondered if she had ever known him.

“I know that sounds strange.” Harry looked at her, his face had regained a little colour. “I was a better auror because of that.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Because I know what people can do, for the wrong reasons, for the right reasons, for what they think are the right reasons. I know how far people might go. Because I did so myself.

“I still wouldn’t recommend to put ‘betrayal of a friend and withholding evidence’ on the aurors’ training programme.” Hermione scoffed.

“I’ve known for some time now, that I did you wrong.” His eyes pleaded with her. “But I did not know, how to undo this.”

Hermione braced herself against the pang of pity that had sneaked up on her. “Not keeping this secret comes to mind as possible amends, or even just stating that you didn’t believe the _amortentia_ accusation.”

“But I did, I believed it.”

Hermione shook her head. “You found evidence that Draco had told the truth and you still thought he drugged me?”

“I thought, he was like Snape. Obsessed. I wanted to save you.”

Her brain whirled and she looked in Harry’s face, trying to find an answer to the question why he would think that.

“You still don’t understand that this was not about Draco,” she finally told him. “You just couldn’t accept that I make my own decisions. That I helped you fight Voldemort did not mean that you had a say in who I chose to love.”

She unclenched the fist that held the draft of Harry’s official statement.

She straightened the parchment and read it again, thinking about, what it would mean. She let the feelings of betrayal fall into a deep well somewhere in her mind, to be examined later, and coldly analyzed the text Harry had written.

She raised her eyes and saw Robert running in some distance, laughing, Colin was in pursuit, taking care not to overtake and catch Robert and spoil his fun.

She waved at Draco. Draco said something to Colin and Meg and jogged over.

When he had reached her, he looked with worry into her face.

“Should I have stayed?”

She shook her head.

“What do you think about this statement?” she asked him, pointing at the parchment. “If you distance yourself from what it means for us.”

The corner of Draco’s mouth quirked upwards and Hermione felt a rush of warmth. He saw the crux.

“From a political point of view, it is rubbish,” he stated. His eyes found hers and he nodded.

Hermione smiled, relieved. “Yes, it is.”

She shoved the parchment into Harry’s hands. “Leave everything in, Harry, even your resignation, if this is what you really want and you didn’t just put it in because you thought a sacrifice would serve to mellow us, but don’t mention you suppressed evidence.”

Ginny frowned. “Why would you let him of the hook like that?”

“The last thing people need right now in the middle of the top of wizarding society being arrested is to learn that the head auror cannot be trusted.”

Draco flashed his teeth. “And there I thought, you had learned something about politics, Potter. I guess, what you learned was drowned in a bout of Gryffindor courage. Courage you should have found years ago, I might add.”

“We need these prejudices to die out once and for all. If you resign in the middle of this, who knows who might be appointed.” Hermione said. “If you resign of your own free will, you can suggest Pansy as your successor.”

She scrutinized Harry and Ginny. They both looked baffled. “In many things, when it comes to what we want in wizarding society we are allies, and we have always been, even if you forgot that, Harry.”

“Allies negotiate, they don’t necessarily like each other.” Draco smirked.

“And there is something else that needs your attention. I guess you have full access to Sloane’s house?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. “We’ll turn every stone.”

“You will find out, if Geoffrey Sloane is the Malfoy heir via the marriage of Lucille Malfoy and Stan Sloane. And if he is, you will do everything in your power to make him revoke the cut out curse on Draco.”

Draco looked at her. She took his hand and pressed it.

“That might not work. He must do it of his own free will. And I doubt he is keen on doing us a favour.” Draco was a sceptic at heart, as always.

“We will know, if it works, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll travel to France.” Hermione rubbed his thumb and pressed his hand again for good measure.

Her eyes found Colin who had finally caught Robert and rolled on the grass with him and Meg, all three laughing. “And while we’re at it. Do something to get your son in hand, and Richard. I want them to leave Colin alone.”

“Did anything happen?” Ginny asked. “I told them to behave and they swore that they have a truce with Colin.”

“Well, that seems to have worked, but still…..” Hermione frowned. “Just so that you know.” 

She shook her head shortly. “At some point, you probably should tell Neville, Pansy, Luna and Blaise about this, but I leave that to you. I won’t tell them.”

“I don’t know what to say. That is very generous.” Harry looked at them, with something like hope in his eyes.

“No, it isn’t. I just don’t want to be the one to break the news to them. And sit there having to watch their disappointment sinking in.”

She looked straight in Harry’s face. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive you, but I can assure you, I will not forget this.”

She turned and caught Draco smiling smugly. She shook her head slightly. He probably had guessed her reaction.

“Revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. But I think that is not true. The best revenge is not to eat the dish.” Draco took Hermione’s hand.

He smiled at her and then turned to Harry again. “I am happy, and I don’t need your attempts at amends to stay happy and neither do I need more revenge than knowing about your bad conscience and how it has plagued you and will continue to plague you.”

Hermione inhaled, let the air fill her lungs until they were filled to bursting.

“I think we will leave now.” Hermione waved at her children to come over.

“I’ll write to you when we have decided on Draco’s birthday party,” she told Ginny. “And thank you for checking Aethelwulf the Weasel for us.”

Robert was, of course, very disappointed that tagging was at an end, but Draco promised him a treat.

“Balloon?” he asked timidly, and Hermione had to laugh. The little rascal had managed to lift her mood.

“You and your obsession with balloons. I promise we’ll buy some.” She picked him up and rubbed noses with him. Robert giggled.

They were just about to leave when Draco suddenly turned to Ginny and whispered urgently.

“You’d best hurry and leave as well. If I am not mistaken, that young lady over there works for the Prophet.”

But it was too late. The young lady was not the only one, and soon they were cornered. Hermione would have disapparated on the spot if she had been alone with the children.

Ginny came to stand at her side. “You know, we have to control this story,” she whispered in her ear.

Hermione gritted her teeth, donned her professional countenance, and promised the reporters half an hour, if they would let them authorize the interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I guess this chapter was also long-awaited. I hope it lives up to expectations...
> 
> And it got rather long, but I didn't want to split it.


	96. The Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin returns to Hogwarts on Monday morning and several articles in the Prophet cause quite a commotion.

On Monday morning, Rina had still trouble wrapping her head about everything that happened on Saturday, mum and her godmother on the occamy hunt, the conspiracy, the elves’ curse. She burned to drill Colin on everything. She checked her phone if her brother had announced his arrival.

She reread the messages from Saturday and suppressed a shudder. Mum pregnant. How could two intelligent people like her parents mess up with contraception to such a degree? Even with an elves’ blessing getting in the way.

She saw that Ellie had texted. She felt a pang of bad conscience that she had contacted Professor Greengrass’ girlfriend, but Ellie had been very nice and forthcoming. Colin apparently had no qualms whatsoever. He was in regular contact with Ellie. She probably was delighted about whatever nerdy questions Colin had.

_“Armand Malfoy does not occur in any document about the conquest, but that is not a real surprise. Anyway, about your question. William the Conqueror disowned the Anglo-Saxon lords who had fought him at Hastings. William then handed out the lands to his followers. They had to support him, because without this flimsy excuse that the lands in question were legally handed out by a lawful king, the nobles would not have a right to those lands altogether. That is why the kings after William confirmed the lands in question, as their very first act after being crowned. Or so I read, it’s not really my area of expertise.”_

Rina frowned. She had not really thought that Armand Malfoy would be traceable in Muggle history, but she wondered about how he had gotten Malfoy Manor, or probably not the Manor itself but the lands and whatever building had stood there.

 _“Thank you very much,”_ she wrote. _“I appreciate your help. It might be important. How long until the lands in question could be considered the legal possession of the Normans?”_

She pocketed her phone again. She would have to ask grandmadam if there was a grant made by William the Conqueror to Armand Malfoy.

She shook her head. She wondered how many pureblood families descended from Normans and who might have had an even older claim. Aethelwulf the Uncouth nicknamed the Weasel perhaps, if he had been Anglo-Saxon as his name suggested.

She entered the Great Hall and spied Colin at the Gryffindor table. Lizzie sat at his side. This was unusual. If they sat together, they usually chose the Hufflepuff table.

Rina sprinted to her siblings. She gave Colin’s upper arm a cuff with her fist.

“I am so angry at you. Meg and you got a seat in the front row about this whole conspiracy….”

“It was bloody frightening, Rina.” Colin shook his head. “There is no need to be envious.”

He dropped his voice to a whisper. “And if I understood correctly, you were involved in the case here at Hogwarts. Uncle Neville told me all of it on the way here.”

“But that was only sad, not really exciting.” Lizzie told him.

“Well, learning about the elves’ curse was also sad.” Colin snapped.

Colin angled a newspaper from his bag. “Anyway, I brought the Prophet.”

“The Prophet?” Rina crunched her face.

“There is a big article on dad’s exoneration and an interview.”

Colin winked. “I was there. I can tell you from first-hand experience if mum and dad really said that.”

He unfolded the Paper.

 ** _“Head auror Potter saves the day”_** was the headline. There was a photo of Harry Potter directly under the headline. Rina thought it looked somewhat unflattering. The head auror was deathly pale and he was caught in the middle of rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses. It made him look incredibly tired. He did not yet make a move to take Minister Shacklebolt’s outstretched hand. Rina was sure the head auror had shaken the minister’s hand seconds after the photo was shot.

Rina scoffed. “That is such an exaggeration. What about Aunt Luna, the other aurors? Uncle Neville? Aunt Pansy? Mum and Dad?”

“They are all mentioned in the article.” Colin told them. “Actually, it is rather close to the truth. I haven’t read the article on dad yet.”

Lizzie scoffed. “Must be the odd one out.” That the Prophet was unreliable was an often-voiced truism in the Granger-Malfoy household.

Rina grabbed the paper and skimmed the first page.

“There was even a connection to the Muggle Prime Minister. Uncle Neville didn’t say anything about that.”

“Yes, mum and dad wouldn’t stop laughing about it,” Colin informed them. “Apparently they promised the Muggle Prime minister that they would fix Brexit for him.”

Colin shook his head.

“What did they intend to do? Confund the whole EU? Annihilate Northern Ireland?” He imitated Dad’s voice. He was getting quite good at that. “Tells you how conceited they are, that they think magic would be enough to right **that** mess.”

 ** _“Draco Malfoy exonerated”._** At least dad had made it on page 2. They had taken a muggle photograph with mum and the available children at his side, all smiling. It was cleverly arranged to contrast a picture at the bottom of the page. The black-and-white sketch must have been taken from the archive. It showed mum and dad at his trial, holding hands, and awaiting his verdict with fear on their faces. It told a powerful story of its own. Rina silently congratulated whoever had put the pictures together and wondered if it was the same person that had chosen that unflattering photo of Harry Potter.

Rina and Lizzie bent their head over the newspaper that Colin had spread out.

 _“In the recent upheaval against the ministry, taken apart by the Harry Potter and former Order of the Phoenix members (see page 1) the Head auror came across evidence that can prove the innocence of his friend’s husband, Draco Malfoy. Hermione Granger-Malfoy is famous for her part in bringing down Voldemort at Harry Potter’s side, although our readers might know her even better as the lawyer who supported elves in their plight for just working conditions and whose passion for the plight of house elves and other magical beings has been the bane of many of her lawyer colleagues.”_ Rina read out loud.

Lizzie scoffed. “Just working conditions.”

“Came across evidence,” Colin shook his head.

“His friend,” Rina exclaimed. “Merlin’s ass!”

Colin laughed. “Apparently **this** article is closer to being the usual Prophet trash.”

Their loud reading had attracted an audience, but Rina was too torn between amusement and exasperation to pay it any heed.

The interview was on page 3. They skipped the parts where the head auror was interviewed and proceeded directly to mum and dad. Rina started reading the answers out loud and Colin nodded along. John, her co-head had come over as had several other Hufflepuffs.

_“Yes, of course, my husband and I are grateful that the head auror has found evidence for his defection from Voldemort, but it is not as if there had been no evidence whatsoever. If the testimony of Prudy the house-elf would not have been blatantly disregarded at the trial, new evidence wouldn’t even be needed. And I would like to remind you, that my husband was given the benefit of the doubt even then. Exoneration isn’t even the right word. Evidence for a fact that people could have known all along fits better.”_

“Well, apparently they didn’t agree with mum’s definition if you look at the headline,” Colin remarked.

_“Yes, my son Colin found the notes on the Phoenix Potion and the recipe will be available soon. And no, I won’t allow the use under a common licence. There can be no doubt that I hold the patent claim. Just ask my wife.”_

“Hah”, Rina exclaimed. “They copied dad’s brew and didn’t even manage to match it.” She skimmed the next questions that had been answered by Ginny Potter.

“Apparently, the auror department has already undone the curses on all the muggleborns. That was quick work. Ginny Potter mentions that dad and mum discovered how. She even mentions you, Colin.”

“Oh, I wish I had been there, that is so unfair, Colin,” Lizzie sighed. “Who could have known that your wand would be so important?”

The crowd around them grew with every quote Rina read out loud.

_“No, no, the amortentia accusation was not universally believed. From the very beginning Luna Zabini and her husband and Pansy Longbottom knew that it was untrue, and others realised after a while. Everyone who has studied amortentia and its effects could have known that my husband was framed. Yes, that includes the Head auror. You heard, that he just confirmed that he should have known that. Mr. Dawlish was the auror who was responsible and in light of this new evidence he should be held accountable for how badly he handled this case.”_

“I hope that means, that Dawlish will never come back to teach,” John remarked. He would not be the only who would be beside himself, if the boring nuisance never made an appearance again, not after the successful Greengrass/Longbottom combination.

_“At the very least I expect that I won’t be charged double in the shops at Diagon alley anymore.”_

“Hah,” Lizzie pumped her fist. “I certainly hope so. Do you think we might be admitted to Weasleys Wizard Wheezes now?”

“Don’t be daft,” Rina told her. “That will happen, when nifflers handle broomsticks…” Her eyes met Richard Weasley’s and James Potter’s who had joined the crowd around them. It seemed like nobody ate breakfast any longer. Apart from Rina’s voice reading the excerpts from the interview. Even the teachers looked at them.

Rina looked forward to her potions lesson. She would answer ‘Phoenix Potion’ to every question of Professor Thompson. She would make this her project for the NEWTs. Maybe research on why the imitation did not work as well as the original.

_“I have fought for years against prejudices against muggles and muggleborns and this whole case shows you that we have not come far. Children were hurt, and if anyone thinks that it was harmless to the squibs on the receiving side, think again. Not that it should matter, because the muggleborn children were hurt and that should be enough to end this, but can you imagine what the poor child must think who realises that their magic was plundered from someone else and that the other child was hurt in the process?”_

“What will happen to all the squib children? Imagine, your parents in prison. Being an accomplice to their crime even if unknowing or unwilling.” Lizzie shuddered. Her eyes shimmered. Lizzie had shared a dorm with Matilda Fawley for almost a year and Rina felt a pang of pity, mostly for her sister, but also for poor shy Matilda.

_“Do I still hate Potter? What kind of question is this? If you really want to know. Yes. And the feeling is mutual. But we are both mature enough to refrain from doing anything about it.”_

They all laughed.

“No need to corroborate that, Colin,” Rina chuckled. “Dad definitely said that.”

“Why would your father still hate mine, when my father unearthed this evidence?” James Potter apparently did not think this was funny.

Rina narrowed her eyes at him. “Because it is as my mother said. Everyone could have known all along that my father did defect. But it was only a house elf after all who testified for him.”

“Just a stupid, inferior house elf.” She added, indicating quotation marks with her fingers when she said ‘stupid’ and ‘inferior’.

James Potter scowled. “The Prophet article said that my dad was searching for this evidence.”

“Pff,” Lizzie stuck her tongue out at him. “I don’t believe that. The Prophet does just the usual Potter hero worship. Your father told my parents to keep silent about the Phoenix Potion notes, just because he wanted to wrap up this conspiracy case.”

James’ face darkened.

Colin crossed his arms. “I won’t beg your forgiveness for boasting about my father’s comeuppance. You’d best swallow that.”

Rina’s breath stuck in her throat. She looked at Colin flabbergasted. She was tempted to ask him, if he was polyjuiced.

From the corner of her eyes, Rina saw David and Jane approach, the Gryffindor prefects. David’s face was worried.

“You know, James Potter, considering how famous your father is, it would probably have been sufficient if he had just told the wizarding public that he believed my father to be innocent.” Rina would not let pass the opportunity to get back at the prat.

Rina saw that Richard, occasionally the more rational of the disaster twins tugged at James’ sleeve, but James shrugged him off.

“Assumptions is not how you make cases.” James insisted. “There has to be evidence.”

“Shut it, James,” Colin told him. “You are just pissed that nobody talks about the tremendous Gryffindor Quidditch win. Must be so tough to live in the shadow of a famous father who actually put down a conspiracy instead of watching a stupid Quidditch game.”

There was a collective gasp.

“Stupid Quidditch game?” James Potter was livid. “You weren’t even there, supporting your house.”

“I did research.” Colin’s face eerily resembled Dad’s smirk. Rina feared what he would say next.

“With your father’s invisibility cloak – which he gave to me, when I asked for it. I didn’t have to filch it.”

James’ fist flew to Colin’s face, but Colin somehow had anticipated that, and James would have just barrelled on the floor, if he had not caught his balance in the last moment. He was a seeker after all.

After that he drew his wand, and James and Colin began to fight for real in the middle of the Great Hall. Hexes flew and Colin gave as good as he got.

John, the headboy, David and Jane tried to separate them, and Richard shouted at both to stop. Rina did not intervene. That Potter boy had it coming, and it was high time he was taken down a notch or two. The way several students cheered Colin on, certainly meant that Rina was not the only one who held that opinion.

In the end, it was Uncle Neville who separated them. He used his height, held them both effortlessly at arm’s length and deduced 100 points from Gryffindor to the collective groan of the Gryffindors and the protest of David and Jane. When the boys had calmed down somewhat, Neville pulled them away, not too gently, to let them be checked for injuries.

Gryffindor still led by a narrow margin now, but the house cup was not a foregone conclusion any longer. Rina was not in the least sorry about that. Colin could get the house cup for Gryffindor once she had left Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Potter - Malfoy rivalry resurfaces in the next generation.  
> This chapter was fun to write.


	97. Azkaban

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Azkaban to deal with the dementor's anchor there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: This takes place several weeks after the big arrest. It's the last school day. This and the following chapters all take place on the last day of school (or leading up to it) and they overlap. The plot thickens again...

Harry was the first in the kitchen this morning, which was not surprising, considering that the sun had just risen. Ginny was still fast asleep and Kreacher had not yet gotten up to prepare breakfast. He studied the two letters that sat on the table. The handwriting was rather similar, but the content and the tone was definitely not. He would have to answer or react today, before he went to his weekly visit of Azkaban, at least to the second letter.

_Potter,_

_Dr Mark Church, whose surgery is located at 13, Bloombury Drive, Sussex, has been jinxed (I suspect by elves) which led to a series of unfortunate events, a fact that is rather inconvenient for me and Hermione as I am his patient. I suggest you unjinx him and then use one of the perpetual scutum spells on him, so that further jinxing will be prevented._

_D. L. Malfoy_ 


Harry had absolutely no idea what this was about. Why would Malfoy ask him instead of asking Hermione to unjinx the hapless man? A _scutum_ on a muggle would probably work, but Harry would have to be secretive about it. He sighed and wondered if Malfoy would drop random requests for magical work on him from now on. He had the feeling that the balance had definitely shifted in Malfoy’s favour after their meeting.

Helping muggles who had been jinxed was one of his tasks as auror, but using one of the _scutum_ perpetuals… It was not illegal, or at least not yet, because the Wizengamot had yet to decide what to do with the occamy eggs after the trials.

In any case, Harry would have a look at Dr Church.

The other letter was something else entirely, and worried Harry far more. It was much more polite.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_Please forgive me, if my question is impertinent, and feel free not to answer if you feel I intrude. I only write to you because I think it would be useless to search in the books on the second wizarding war while you are probably the only person who really knows._

_I am aware that you probably think that it is far too early for me to think about possible career choices, but the incident with your cousin has made me realise that curse breaking would be an occupation after my heart._

_I have read about Voldemort’s defeat and my mother has told us about it, so forgive me, if I have some ideas and theories. I would be very much obliged, if you could either corroborate or deny my ideas and answer my questions._

_At what time did you realise that your connection to Voldemort might be deadly? Did you have an inkling before you learned that you were one of his Horcruxes?_

_Do you think that your knowledge that Voldemort had to kill you personally to destroy the Horcrux influenced how you gave yourself over?_

_Would Voldemort have destroyed the Horcrux if he had killed you at an earlier time, e.g. after the Triwizard Tournament? Or did it only work because you went willingly to be killed and at a time when so many of the other horcruxes had been destroyed already? Did it only work because of your intention and the timing? If that is so, how did you know?_

_I apologize for asking about this and if I overstepped, but I honestly can’t ask anyone else and there is no good guide how to ask someone about one of the times he died._

_Thank you very much,_

_Sincerely_

_Colin Granger-Malfoy_

Harry shook his head. The letter was still the same it had been, when he had first received it, and reading it again, would not change it. It made Harry feel very uneasy.

He had discussed it with Ginny, and his wife had given him the sound advice to tell Colin that he would only answer if Colin would allow him to at least tell his parents about the fact he had written. A short note by Colin had arrived immediately afterwards, informing Harry that he agreed, if it meant that he would get an answer.

Since Ginny would meet Hermione today, Harry should get to work on his answer. He was not in the habit of drafting letters, but he did not want to make mistakes. If Colin did something stupid Harry definitely did not want to be guilty of it. He shuddered just imagining it.

While he scribbled with a pencil on his notebook, Kreacher entered the kitchen. The elf held a parchment in his hands and was humming. He was apparently oblivious to Harry’s presence. Of late his eyesight and hearing had become worse, but he still insisted on running the kitchen, much to Harry’s dismay.

The elf jumped when he noticed Harry, and the parchment flew out of his hands and floated into one of the corners. Harry accioed it without thinking and handed it to the elf. It was a sketch of a man who held a jug and a glass and who had a full plate in front of him. He was a bit on the portly side, but his laughter looked good-natured. The style of sketching did look familiar to Harry and he looked closer. ‘Galion’ was written underneath the sketch in the same handwriting Harry had stared at for the last half hour or so.

“How did you get a sketch by Colin Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“Kreacher got this at the last elves meeting. Young Malfoy draws elves from muggle literature and gives the pictures to us.”

“He doesn’t look that elvish to me,” Harry remarked.

“He obviously loves food, that is very elvish,” Kreacher scowled, hugging the paper closer.

Harry should have known that it was not a good idea to voice something that could be taken as criticism of a Malfoy in Kreacher’s hearing.

He looked at his draft, read it again and again.

Ginny entered the kitchen and he showed her what he had written. She boldly stroked out some sentences and then nodded.

“You’ll go with Teddy today?” she asked.

Harry nodded. “And Viola and Baxter.”

Baxter had recovered fully, thanks to a handy wand with occamy feather core lent by Ollivander.

“Kreacher, there is no need to cook today, not for us anyway,” she told their elf. “I’ll bring Lily to Penelope and Percy, and I’ll be having an early tea with Hermione and Pansy. If you could do something fancy tomorrow evening though, when James and Richard will have returned from Hogwarts, that would be nice.”

Kreacher nodded. “I’ll do Richard’s favourite.”

The elf would always do Richard’s favourite. He had a soft spot for Ron’s son.

Harry began to carefully write his letter to Colin on parchment.

Ginny stepped closer and Harry’s heart sped up. They were still so very careful in their interactions. As if handling raw eggs. Polite to a fault to each other, but they still had not found their way back to normalcy, and Harry wondered if they ever would return to their easy camaraderie, their teasing and banter. That Ginny had gotten pregnant for the third time, just before the big arrest obviously was no help either. They had agreed to try for another child, but Harry was far from happy that the pregnancy had come into the midst of their crisis. If anything, the pregnancy made it more difficult.

Sometimes Harry wondered if he was the one who had been jinxed. ‘In your heart of hearts’. The questions Malfoy had asked on the bench in Russel Square would sometimes play on repeat in his mind. When that happened Harry did not know if he was to blame for Ginny’s and his careful reserve in their interactions. If he should look at what his heart of hearts really told him about his reasons for holding back Snape’s memories.

Harry was not sure if he liked the person Malfoy had painted in broad strokes that day. A man who thought he deserved it all, who tried to ensure that he would have it all. Not generous enough to let other people just be happy. Not generous enough to want a fulfilling loving marriage for his best friend. Just because he had wanted both a wife with a huge family and a best friend who had his back. If he were that person, he should loathe himself. Most of the days since that talk, he did.

Ginny laid her hand on his arm. “If your idea to remove the _scutum_ on the dementors’ anchor does not work, you will let it lie, won’t you? I don’t want you to endanger yourself.”

“I promise,” Harry said. “I’ll also pay Sloane a visit. Although I fear it’s no use.”

“Leave it to him to put an ass to shame. He is stubbornness incarnate.” Ginny made a face.

“Sometimes, I think, that would be too easy for me,” Harry mused. “If I could just make him give in….” That was as close as they would get nowadays to addressing Snape’s memories and the question of amends. Colin’s letter had not made that any less complicated.

Ginny did not take his bait. Harry had half hoped that she would tell him, that it was enough that he tried, but she kept silent. Maybe trying was not enough. She rose on her toes though and gave him a short kiss. It was dry but at least she did kiss him on the mouth.

“The moment you’ll have finished that letter, Lily and I will be off to Percy. You know, he seems to genuinely like having me over. I would never have guessed. He is so relieved to be rid of his boss. It is as if a weight has been removed from his shoulders, even though he got a reprimand over his treatment of Draco.” Ginny shook her head. She had been silent for a whole day, when she had learned that.

Lily sauntered into the kitchen, hugging Harry from behind almost ruining his efforts in writing the letter, but Harry hugged her back, savouring her affection.

When Harry had finished the letter, he made a magical copy and gave it to Ginny. He called for his big snow owl, the third successor to Hedwig, and fastened the letter to her leg.

***

Azkaban did not lift his mood, but that was no surprise. Baxter was the auror who went in with him to Sloane and questioned him. It was as fruitless an endeavour as it had been every time before that. Sloane would not talk and was not willing to strike a deal, even though his status as the Malfoy heir was his only asset.

“You know very well yourself, Mr Potter, that your threats and promises are useless. If Draco Malfoy and his wife return the magic she and her children should not have, then I might reconsider. You cannot promise me how my trial will end, nor how the Wizengamot will decide. So, save your breath and pester some of the other prisoners. It is not as if you have a clean slate yourself.”

Baxter shook his head, when they had left the cell. “He really believes that, doesn’t he? That the muggleborns steal magic?”

Harry nodded. “It is a surprisingly persistent delusion, although no one ever found evidence how it could even be done. I do not doubt though, that Sloane thinks he set right an injustice, a magical imbalance. I fear that there might be sympathizers amongst the Wizengamot.”

“Even though there is all that research on muggleborns now?” Baxter asked. “I saw that article in the Quibbler by Narcissa Malfoy that one of Dennis Creevey’s ancestors in the 18th century was a squib Ollivander- Prewett bastard.”

“It will take time for people to accept that.” Harry adjusted his glasses. “Sometimes I wish I could just will people to understand.”

Baxter laughed. “The only way to do that would be decidedly illegal.”

“Yeah, forcing people to understand does not work…” He trailed off.

They visited other prisoners as well, but none of them were forthcoming. In the long run, it would not matter. The evidence against each of them was overwhelming. So far only Ms. Fawley had spilled everything she knew, in the hope of seeing her daughter. Viola had already played chaperone once when Ms. Fawley had been allowed to see her daughter.

With the uneventful and dreary questionings, early afternoon had arrived and Viola and Teddy joined them for their strike on the dementors’ anchor.

With each _patronus_ close by their sides the aurors descended into the bowels of Azkaban, Baxter leading them.

Harry was tempted to lay his hand on his stag. The lingering depression and the cold were almost enough to subdue him. He wondered if Luna’s limpiepinkies had left him and if he could somehow make them return. The thought of Ginny was little comfort. He almost thought that his stag was duller than it used to be. Thinking about James and Richard was no comfort either. He had written to them and apologized that he had not made it to their match, but their answers had been cold and detached. He thought about Lily and the hug she gave him his morning and finally his stag seemed to gain more lustre.

The darkness pressed around them, when they had reached the stone anchor Baxter had found.

“Why did Wally not want this to be known?” Teddy asked.

Harry turned and saw that Teddy had black hair.

“Teddy, stop it, you’re doing it again,” Harry told him.

Teddy flushed and his hair changed back to pink.

“I think, this anchor is not secured with a tied off _scutum_ spell, but with a perpetual.” Harry knelt down and put his wand to the stone, wordlessly emanating some sparks from his wand.

And, indeed, the sparks died at the surface of the stone.

“I think they did not want us to look too closely on how something was sealed off with a permanent scutum decades before the second war with Voldemort.”

“So, the dementors were not part of this conspiracy?” Viola asked.

“If so, nobody has admitted that yet, but there was an anchor in the hall, where they kept the occamies. They must have had some kind of understanding, at least with the dementors there.”

Harry carefully explored the stone with his fingertips, searching for fractures, little holes, something that would give him a hint of where to strike.

He laid his wand on the floor, within easy reach, when he had found a tiny bumpiness just at the left side of the stone.

“Be prepared,” he told his aurors. Their faces were tense.

The silvery shining _patronus_ animals patrolled in a close circle around them.

“Pull me out, if necessary.”

Harry put his left index finger firmly on the bumpiness and closed his eyes, his right hand reaching into thin air.

The sword of Gryffindor was a familiar weight and he put the tip of the sword just at his finger. And then he pushed.

A shining white line sprang up from where the sword touched the stone. Harry could almost feel the sword searing through the layers of the stone, ever so slowly.

He could feel a resistance, something that pushed back, something that had given in a tiny fracture only to rebound with more force now.

He put the sword in both his hands and put his whole weight behind it. He could hear heavy breathing and he could not have said, if it was his own or that of his companions. He could feel sweat on his brow, his hand became slippery and still the resistance in the stone would not budge.

He felt for his magic and put that forth, willing it into the blade of the sword. He thought he heard screeching, he saw blackness and there was a tang of decay in the air. He risked looking at his aurors.

Their faces were pale even though they all held on to their _patronus_ spells. The dementors had realized that he was trying to destroy their anchor and had risked a return despite the heavy warding Harry had set up against them a decade ago.

He heard Teddy shout in defiance, his blood rushed in his ears, it was as if his magic bled out of him, into the stone, and the hindrance only became harder as if the shield on the stone was pressed into one point, the point where he tried to get in with the sword.

He knew he was close to fainting, the oppressive presence of the dementors weighed on his mind. With horror he heard his father, telling his mother to run, he heard his mother scream, but it did not stop there.

“Kill the spare,” Voldemort rasped, and Cedric died.

Sirius falling through the veil, his face strangely calm.

Malfoy bleeding in alarming speed on the tiles of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

‘You do not understand’ he heard Malfoy tell Dumbledore, his voice desperate.

‘Severus, please’, Dumbledore begged.

Snape spoke the killing curse in a crisp and precise voice.

A faint echo of Fred’s laughter.

He heard Hermione pleading with him and Ron. He saw Hermione touching the envelope that was the transfigured vial, he saw Ron in despair after his divorce from Padma.

He saw Richard crying when he first slept at Grimmauld’s, after the divorce.

He saw the light in Pansy’s eyes dim when he told her what he had done, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears. He saw Neville laying a hand on her shoulders, his eyes avoiding Harry’s.

He saw how Ginny’s hand had dropped from his neck when he had confessed his enormous mistake.

He heard Hermione call him traitor.

Malfoy’s voice. ‘In your heart of hearts’.

It threatened to pull him under. He barely saw that one of the _patronus_ animals had winked out. He could not have said which.

Just when he thought the pain was too much, when he feared his magic had flowed away from him, all fed into the stone without any effect, he suddenly remembered Snape’s notes. ‘ _Someone should be happy’_.

A room full of balloons. He felt a sliver of a child’s joy, the way it should be, unhindered, innocent, boundless, oblivious to the knowledge, that the joy would at one point be over, complete and blessed happiness. It was not for him, but it should be there for someone. It should be a possibility, even if he himself who had done right and wrong would never be able to have this feeling again.

He shoved with his last strength and when the sword at last breached through the hard barrier, it slid through the stone as if it were butter, up to the hilt.

The screeching rose to an eye-piercing wail and then stopped.

Harry feared what he would see, when he opened his eyes, but Teddy, Viola and Baxter were all there, unharmed, even if their faces were grey as ash.

“Uncle Harry?” Teddy’s voice trembled.

“Did they vanish?” Harry whispered.

Viola shook her head. “No, but they fled again. I could have sworn that Baxter’s patronus tore one of them in half, just as they fled. It might well be that they are finally vulnerable now.”

Harry did not protest when the others picked him up and supported him, all the way up to the higher levels of the prison. His teeth shattered the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of love to @marydri who read this chapter in advance and who helps me coming up with the best things. 
> 
> Shout out to all the lovely people who comment and make my day! I love it when people binge-read my fic!


	98. Social Justice Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin is on a campaign to right injustice and gets an answer to his letter.

Within the few weeks that remained until term’s end, Colin managed to ruin his reputation as a well-behaved and rule-abiding student. Instead of answering questions, doing homework, he openly defied his teachers, especially Professor Thompson in Potions and Professor Hailey the Professor in History of magic. He mentioned Phoenix Potion, he insisted that the history lessons should cover how the house elves were cursed and how wizards and witches had committed crimes against humanity. He asked after ethical implications in Transfiguration. The only subjects where he refrained himself were Charms, Herbology and DADA. He was absurdly proud when he overheard Professor Thompson remarking to Professor Hailey that the ‘Granger-Malfoys have become so difficult to handle’. He was tempted to tell Professor Thompson that it was his own fault that he had to eat his own words about Phoenix Potion, but shut his mouth at the last moment, when he saw that Uncle Neville was about to join the other teachers.

He still managed to get house points though, but he had to fight for them. He often produced the books that showed he was right and argued doggedly with the professors. He took the very flustered elf Lapsy into History classes to be questioned about the curse. He guided her to tell the whole story via carefully prepared questions. After the lesson, the whole classroom had been silent, including a pale Professor Hailey. It had been balm on his soul to see his classmates completely out of their depth. Richard Weasley had been very concerned, that the Weasleys had not managed to break the curse, that they hadn’t even known that they were supposed to do so.

Colin duelled quite a few times with James Potter as well, despite the fact that James had received a howler by his mother about their public quarrel, a howler that had said nothing more but: _‘James Sirius Potter, you promised!’._

His own mum and dad had been less public about it. _Pushing Potter buttons might feel like a fun exercise_ , Dad had texted, _but in the long run, it will leave a stale taste in your mouth_. Mum had just written that he was better than that.

So far, pushing James’ buttons had not become stale. Just one word about how the famous head auror could have taken care of dad’s exoneration long ago, and James was at his throat. Colin knew that his parents were right and yet it was as if he was obsessed. He taunted James at every opportunity. Richard often trailed behind James and tried to keep him out of the reach of Colin’s tongue, at one time even casting a spell that stuffed up James’ ears.

James and Colin both made sure that they were not seen or heard by any of the professors, and if someone occasionally caught them, Colin could always claim that he did not start the quarrel. And if you only counted the drawing of wands as the start of a quarrel it was even true. David and Jane had caught them at one time and David had practically begged on his knees for them to stop it. He very reluctantly deduced house points, reducing the narrow lead of Gryffindor even further.

“As soon as James admits that he was in the wrong about my father. And that my mother was right about the house elves.” Colin shrugged. “You know, I don’t care about winning the house cup. This is so irrelevant if you look at the grand scale of things.”

“You’ve managed to avoid each other since Christmas, why can’t you just continue to do so?”, David wanted to know.

“I’m done with hiding,” Colin told him, twirling his wand. “As I said, James could just admit he was wrong, for once in his life.”

Colin knew he should not be that contentious, but it was as if he was driven by anger about so many things, that he barely knew where to start. He visited the elves almost daily, and when he heard their stories about students, who were not so nice, he made an effort to do something about it.

He had an agreement with the elves that they would pull him out of the pickle if he ever were caught. He cursed one of the Ravenclaw prefects who had been pestering the pretty Hufflepuff prefect for quite some time. When the Ravenclaw had tried to rat him out to Professor Hailey about his expertly done nasty jelly leg jinx, Colin had lied straight to her face. At the insistence of the Ravenclaw, Professor Hailey had run a _priori incantatem_ on Colin’s wand that had produced nothing but a hair straightening charm Colin insisted he needed for his curls. Rachel who had witnessed everything stared at him with round eyes and the Ravenclaw got detention for a week for falsely accusing Colin.

Lizzie, who had come to witness one of his fights with James, was worried about him, and one time she had even collaborated with Richard to fetch Rina. By the time Richard and Lizzie had returned with Rina in tow, James and Colin were both down, sitting across each other and breathing heavily. Had it been anyone else, they might have looked like they were friends.

“Just get it over with,” Colin heard Richard whisper into James’ ear. “Just tell him that you were wrong. If aunt Ginny gets wind about this constant fighting, we will both never hear the end of it.”

But James had stood up and had shaken off Richard’s hand, scowling at Colin. He had not dared to raise his wand again in Rina’s presence though.

Lizzie and Rina had banded together against Colin in preventing him from duelling James and from that moment on, James and he were never alone. They were tailed either by Hufflepuffs or Slytherins and in their common room David and Jane took turns to watch. Both his sisters must have said something to his parents as well, or maybe Uncle Neville had an inkling about Colin’s stubborn insistence on getting an apology from James. Both dad and mum called him and inquired after school and how things were in way too cheerful voices.

James and Colin fights had died down after that, which might have been for the better, because Colin still had his hands full with righting the wrongs he happened to learn about. He hexed one Hufflepuff who had made a snide remark about the fact that Professor Greengrass had a girlfriend. Ellie had become common knowledge after an article in the Prophet that retold all details about the Greengrass trial. The article was accompanied by a photo of Ellie hand in hand with Astoria Greengrass. Uncle Neville’s _patronus_ had been quite busy fighting off howlers that day at breakfast.

Today was the last day of school, and Colin itched to have a go at James one more time before the holidays started. It happened that he got his wish. A large snow owl had arrived at breakfast, and James had stretched out his hands. But the owl had flown further on and had dropped a letter in Colin’s lap, a letter from Harry Potter, the answer to Colin’s question, that was long overdue.

James had begun a fight on a whim, and for once it had not been Colin’s tongue that had started it. They were separated by the head boy, and Colin was sent to the hospital wing with a bleeding nose, while James got a scathing scolding by the prefects.

Colin wiped his nose and decided that the nosebleed was not strong enough to warrant a visit to the hospital. He opened the head auror’s letter.

_Dear Colin,_

_I must admit that your question had me thoroughly alarmed, and I didn’t want to answer at all, lest you get yourself in danger._

_On the other hand, I do remember vividly that I was very angry at the adults in my own school time who just would not give me the information I needed and wanted. Not giving me information never held me back. The only result was that I walked into dangerous situations blindly._

_So, you get your answer, but I will give a copy of my answer to my wife who will meet with your mother today, because if I have learned anything from my own youth it is that children should be kept out of the adult’s fights. I fear I have failed you and your siblings abysmally in this._

_Here is my answer to your question: In a way I had always suspected that my connection to Voldemort was potentially deadly and when I learned I was one of his horcruxes, only a part of me was surprised. At that moment I knew that Voldemort had to kill me. I did not even need to orchestrate that or manipulate him into doing it, because he was set on this path anyway._

_You could say he was hell bound on his own destruction. And yet, I agree with your supposition, that there was a **right time** to give myself to Voldemort. I doubt I would have survived, had it not been for the fact that Voldemort was already weakened by the destruction of almost all his horcruxes. The horcrux that was in me was affected by the destruction of the other horcruxes, I am certain. I also agree that my going there willingly affected the outcome as well. I doubt the result would have been the same, if Voldemort had killed me on that graveyard after the Triwizard Tournament, not only because almost all the horcruxes were still intact, but also because I would have died fighting. The willingness to give my life was the counter-effect to the killing curse and that was what allowed the horcrux in me to be destroyed, without a touch to my soul. It was indeed a question of timing, of the right mindset that was opposite to the intention of Voldemort and the fact that Voldemort’s bindings to immortality had been weakened already._

_You have been very vague about your reason to ask me about this and I must admit that I don’t really buy your explanation that you’re thinking about a curse breaking career. I assume this is about the elves and there, timing might indeed be even more essential._

_If you want my thoughts, I advise you to be extremely cautious. If the events around the breaking of the elves curse so far are any indication, this is no curse to be trifled with._

_So, don’t be a Gryffindor about whatever you plan. I probably don’t have to tell you that you should discuss this with your parents._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry J. Potter_

Colin fiddled with the letter. The head auror had confirmed his suspicions, each and every one of them.

His nosebleed had stopped, and for once he had escaped the ever present Hufflepuff – Slytherin collaborative tails on his doings. He made his way to the kitchen to talk with the elves, and give a helping hand, as he had done every day since he had forced poor Lapsy to attend the History lesson. He usually brought some of his sketches as well. He had begun to draw elves from every kind of Muggle literature, and the elves eagerly ripped his drawings from his hands.

When he entered, Lapsy gave him a nervous look.

Colin raised his hands. “I won’t pull you to classes again! And I am really sorry, I did that! Is Prudy here?”

Prudy came and Colin showed her the head auror’s letter.

Prudy’s ears became even more pointy when they perked up with interest.

“You do have an idea,” she stated.

Colin nodded.

“Mum and Dad told me that the curse won’t be undone without some exceptional magic.”

“That’s for sure,” Prudy shrugged.

“You don’t have any idea about the chisel yet?” Colin asked.

Prudy shook her head.

“Well, whatever the chisel is…”

“Or whoever…” Prudy interrupted.

“Or whoever….” Colin studied her face. “I think that the person who wields the magic to undo the curse must come from a place of trust. Trust must be the key to defeat a curse that was made with betrayal. Just like wanting to save lives was the key for Harry Potter to defeat Voldemort’s magic that killed others for the sake of his own immortality.”

Prudy’s big eyes had a shimmer to them.

“So, if I find out what to do, I will have to do it and I will have to trust you. It’s not only the method, it is also the timing and what I feel.”

Prudy’s face was contorted with something that might have been worry or sorrow.

“And I guess it will have to be a trust that runs deep, like the trust between friends or even beyond that. I will have to trust you and the elves with everything, won’t I?”

Prudy touched his arm, her eyes locking onto his face.

“And you will have to trust me, a wizard, when wizards were the ones who betrayed you.”

Prudy nodded.

“I do already trust you,” she said. “And you do know a lot about trust, Colin. You’ve known about it all your life.”

“How so?” he asked.

“Imagine trusting the woman you wronged with your life, your heart and your happiness. Imagine loving the person who wronged you. There is strong magic in forgiving, in true forgiveness. Magic that forms a strong bond.”

“Am I correct in assuming that dad would not trust you enough?” Colin asked.

Prudy nodded. “He doesn’t trust anyone but your mother.”

“Not even Aunt Pansy? Grandmadam?”

“Only after a fashion.”

“Could I do it? I mean, I trust you. I’ve known you since I was a small babe.”

Prudy’s eyes were bottomless wells. “I think you can do it.”

“I grew up with elves, but I was not raised by one, no elf nanny for the son of a muggleborn.” Colin tapped his wand on his fingers. “Was this the elves’ plan all along or was this the tide that works against the curse?”

“The latter,” Prudy’s answer came fast.

When Colin raised an eyebrow, she added: “Or at least I didn’t plan this consciously.”

Colin grinned.

“A wand that seems to have a knack for cursebreaking.” He twirled his wand.

Prudy nodded.

“Meg took one of the occamy eggs that held a _scutum_.” Colin watched Prudy’s face.

She winced.

“Robert thought it was a balloon and he took it in turn and threw it up in the air. It might have hit Robert or me, if dad had not jumped in… It hit our van instead.”

The point of Prudy’s ears sagged, which gave her a decidedly unhappy look.

“How strong is the tide that works against the curse, Prudy?”

“Very strong by now.”

“Pushing us in the right direction, but too fast, too strong?”

Prudy nodded.

“It could pull us under and in the rush the right timing for the breaking of the curse might be missed. Or the right spell might be misplaced.” Colin said.

It was not a question, not really. He already knew the answer. He knew what needed to be done.

“You will tell me, Prudy, won’t you? When the right moment comes?”

Prudy laid her hand on his arm. There were tears in her eyes, but she nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marydri had a look at this chapter as well. Thanks!
> 
> And thanks to all my lovely readers, that keep me going by commenting and leaving kudos.


	99. The Portkey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rina's last day at Hogwarts.
> 
> Or: The shit hits the fan.

The _praeda_ scandal continued to hold the public’s attention as well as the Malfoy case. Dad was called to court to give testimony against Fawley, and Gringotts made a public statement that the unfair treatment of Draco Malfoy as a customer was in no way part of the official policy and that Fawley had acted on his own. Rina had rolled her eyes, when that article came out. She had muttered something under her breath that Percy Weasley should have been held accountable as well, and with more than a reprimand, but did not elaborate when Lizzie asked her what she meant.

The remaining cursed muggleborns were all found and Terry Boots, with the help of his lawyer Hermione Granger-Malfoy, had applied to get sole custody of his squib son and had been granted that in an expedite trial. Together with Professor Greengrass, Aunt Pansy and Uncle Neville, he had started a quickly set up childcare centre, that, for now, was run by all of them. Lessons on muggle studies were given by Dean Thomas, the muggleborn father of David Finnigan.

Somehow, dad’s exoneration led to a string of articles on her parents. Mum’s famous cases were dug up. All of a sudden, Slytherins and Gryffindors had all kinds of questions. Lizzie helped Rina and Colin there, she had, after all, experience with curious housemates. The Hufflepuffs were quite exuberant about the newest revelations. One time at lunch they had swung Lizzie in the air, cheering, until she had demanded to be put on the floor.

Once, reporters had caught mum and dad at St Mungo’s and there was a photo in the Prophet. Apparently, mum and dad had refused to answer any questions, but speculations ran high. For some reason, the picture showed them practically doubled over in laughter.

Dad and mum had sent copies of articles in Muggle newspapers to the family chat. Apparently, the scandal had reached the muggle prime minister and one of his closest confidants was forced to resign, when it was discovered that he had withheld information on a cure for a rare but serious children’s illness.

Rina had successfully brewed Phoenix Potion for her NEWTs and she had no doubt that she would get an O. To be fair to Professor Thompson, he had been supportive once he had swallowed his pride.

Grandmadam had found the charter for Armand Malfoy and Rina had taken the risk to call her and guide her through taking a photo with her phone. She had forwarded that photo to Ellie.

Ellie had made inquiries with her colleague from medieval history.

_“He is beside himself. An unknown charter and land grant by William the Conqueror. He reckons the charter was tampered with though, it probably read **et filio suo** not **et filiis et neptis suis** , because by the time of the conquest, primogeniture was already in place and it would make no sense to grant the land to Armand and his sons (plural) and grandsons. What do you make of it?”_

_“Armand had no son, just a daughter. He married her to her cousin, the only son of his sister. Apparently, Etienne was officially his son, but not for real. He might have changed the charter in case someone found out.”_

If Rina remembered correctly from her Latin lessons with dad, _filiis_ was the dative plural of _filius_ , the son, but it could also be the plural of _filia_ , the daughter, while _nepos_ could be grandson as well as nephew.

_“Juicy. Definitely forbidden, at that time, but then wizards and witches probably didn’t care for church rules.”_

Rina wondered how many of the old pureblood families had skeletons like that in their cupboards. If you thought about it, it was highly unlikely to have unbroken male lineages over so many centuries.

She pocketed her phone again. She had decided that she would take a tour through the castle. It was her last day in Hogwarts after all. It made her feel a bit melancholy, but she also looked forward to travelling with her godmother, after the family holiday in France. It would be funny, not to see her friends and classmates every day and she wondered who she would stay friends with. Right now, everyone was incredibly emotional, and it was a bit too much for Rina. Crying in each other’s arms how much they would miss each other was just not Rina’s cup of tea, not even with John whom she genuinely liked.

On her solitary tour she chanced upon Rachel and they sat down together. Rachel was Colin’s friend, but to Rina she was just another younger sister.

“I worry so much about Colin,” Rachel confided to her.

Rina sighed deeply. “Me, too,” she confessed.

“The other day he hexed our prefect, Peter – you know, the one who always pesters girls. When Professor Hailey ran a _priori incantatem_ on his wand, it produced a hair straightening charm.”

“Colin…. A hair straightening charm,” she said.

“Yes, and Peter got detention for lying.”

“Must have been some elf,” Rina told Rachel. “Prudy hid dad’s spells when he was in danger.”

“He seems to be always angry, always on some rampage against injustice. It is as if he wants to get rid of every injustice ever in the span of a few weeks. As if he fears that he’ll run out of spells.” Rachel’s laugh sounded off.

“I just want my friend back”, she added.

Rina nodded. “And he keeps duelling with James Potter.”

“By the way, has he returned from the Hospital wing?” Suddenly, Rina remembered, that Colin had just had a nosebleed. A feeling of dread suddenly washed over her.

“I am going to look for him.” She stood.

Rachel seemed to feel the same unease as Rina, and that increased her own vague disquiet.

Rina forced herself not to run. When she had reached the hospital wing and Ms. Auren told her that Colin hadn’t even been there, she gave up any pretence and picked up speed, leaving Rachel behind. The elves in the kitchen had seen him, but he had left already.

When Rina spotted Colin on the grounds outside, he was already deep in a new fight with James. They both held on to a big cloth that looked like an old shawl. James tried to wrestle it from Colin’s grip. Richard and Lizzie were circling them, trying to separate them.

Rina could only understand what they said, because they shouted so loudly. They had attracted quite an audience.

“You leave Colin alone,” Lizzie spat.

“Colin jumped me and attacked.” James shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Will you just let go, bloody Malfoy. I will go and show everyone what Gryffindor courage is.” James’ face was an angry red.

Richard was trying to disentangle James from Colin. “We are not supposed to go, James. Uncle George said it’s for fourth years.”

“You will not take this from me, Malfoy. We’ll have the House cup and the usual house party. This is all just your fault. If it was not for your cursed father….”

“I won’t budge,” Colin shouted. “I’m done with you, Potter. You think everyone should do as you say. Does David even know you took this from his trunk? And this has nothing to do with my father!”

James tugged again at the shawl.

“You’re going to trigger it, James,” Richard wailed.

Richard made another attempt to separate them, Lizzie held on to Colin, and James threw himself backwards, trying to disentangle himself and put all his weight behind his pull at the shawl. But he had misjudged his own balance or Colin’s dogged refusal to let go and all four landed on the ground in a big bundle.

Rina had finally reached them, her wand drawn to hex the stupid children with body binding curses. But the pink spark of the body bind flew through thin air and hit the ground where just seconds before her siblings and the disaster twins had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You probably knew that this particular Chekov's gun was going to go off.....
> 
> It's somehow fitting that this is chapter 99.


	100. Just having tea with the girls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has tea with Pansy and Ginny. She learns about Colin's letter and Harry's answer. She is very worried and soon has reason to be even more worried....

Hermione listened to Pansy about her ideas for an educational reform for wizarding children with no magic. They sat in a tearoom in Muggle London, neutral territory for a meeting with Ginny. Hermione had been a bit unsure about how she felt about Ginny’s suggestion and she was glad, that Pansy had agreed to come as well.

Hermione slowly stirred her tea and nibbled at her biscuits. The only advantage of being pregnant for the sixth time was that she knew how to handle the various stages of pregnancy. Even with Tatki’s fabulous anti-nausea potion it was still better to have her stomach preoccupied. Swedish bread was her constant companion. Hermione couldn’t wait for the first trimester to be over.

“With the whole _praeda_ scandal, it would be just the right moment to make a petition to minister and wizengamot, don’t you think?” Pansy’s enthusiasm was visible in the colour of her cheeks and the shine of her eyes.

“You will look over our appeal, won’t you? Just to be sure about the legal aspects?”

“Of course, I will.” Hermione smiled. She was happy for her friends. Neville and Pansy had still to tire about having a house suddenly filled with children. That was probably because these children had not yet hit puberty.

Hermione chided herself. The children would be back from Hogwarts tomorrow. They would have the whole summer to talk with Colin and help him.

Neville was beyond worried. He had dropped by one evening and had told them, that Colin had gotten the reputation of hexing people without being found out. Neville had the suspicion that the Ravenclaw Prefect that had almost certainly been hexed by Colin had earned it, but according to Neville at least the Gryffindors tiptoed around Colin in fear of his ready wand.

Draco and Hermione had called Colin several times, but he had been as close-mouthed as an oyster, only telling them that he was fine, when he obviously wasn’t.

The door of the tearoom opened, and Ginny entered. Hermione told herself, that she could always leave, if things became awkward. It was not as if she owed Ginny anything.

Ginny let herself fall on the third chair and ordered sandwiches. They chatted a bit about children, about the Hogwarts’ curriculum, about the teachers in their own school days. It was not a particularly thrilling discussion, but Hermione thought it helped easing the tension. Ginny had always been so much better than her at just talking.

She relaxed enough to tell Ginny, that Draco was at Diagon Alley today, to buy a wand for Meg. She was surprised to hear that Ginny had dropped of her own Lily at Percy’s. She had thought that Ginny was closer to George.

Ginny asked her what she had done at St Mungo’s the other day, and Hermione reluctantly shared the news of her pregnancy. It would be visibly before long anyway, certainly with twins. Pansy knew already of course, which was just as well. This time around Pansy didn’t take it as hard as when Hermione had been pregnant with Robert three years ago.

“Why did you laugh so hard?” Ginny wanted to know.

Hermione closed her eyes. Her first reaction was exasperation, but then she began to giggle.

“Because I expect twins. And then that goblin Gnorlin congratulated us on getting a quidditch team.”

“So, I was already quite pissed. And then Draco had to poke fun at me.” She imitated his voice. “Quidditch team, Merlin’s ass… Colin doesn’t even play quidditch. You know what that means, Granger?”

Pansy groaned. “He didn’t say that.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at her. “Of course, he did.”

“I hit him with everything available, and at some point, we just laughed. You know on top of what happened with Draco’s doctor, it was either laugh or cry.”

“Draco’s doctor?”

“Draco wants to do a vasectomy, because we figure that might be the only thing that might work to prevent the bloody elves’ blessing meddling with our contraception. The week before we had the appointment at St Mungo’s, Draco’s operation was supposed to take place, our third attempt by the way. Poor Dr Church’s car was destroyed by a falling tree. Fortunately, he was not in the car. Give it to the doctor, he is determined. He took the tube and got stuck there. Draco is sure, the elves jinxed the poor doctor.”

They all laughed.

“Maybe I could check if Dr Church is really jinxed.” Pansy shook her head.

“If you do, don’t tell me about it. Draco says, if I know, the elves magic might kick in. He has some plan, but hasn’t told me about it.”

Hermione couldn’t be sure, but she thought Ginny’s eyes got a mischievous glint for a second.

Ginny congratulated her on the twins, and told her that she was expecting as well and for a short time they shared tips about how to handle the early nausea in women’s solidarity older than time itself.

Hermione was just about to actually enjoy the chitter chatter when Ginny pulled some papers out of her bag, that looked like a letter. Hermione frowned when she recognised Harry’s handwriting. He would not have prepared some statement again, would he? She had been relieved that they had not heard from Harry since their meeting in the park at Russell Square. She was not sure she could handle that. So far, every time he had been asked about the evidence on Draco’s exoneration, he had always answered that he should have seen it much sooner.

“Your Colin wrote a letter to Harry,” Ginny put the papers on the table. “Harry didn’t really know what to do about it. We thought about forwarding the letter to you, but Colin put that question to Harry, and Harry is the only person who knows the answer.”

Hermione pressed her hands on her legs to stop them from shaking and let out a small sound of distress.

“He answered today, just before he went off to Azkaban, and asked me to show you his response.”

“Why didn’t you tell me at once?” Hermione frowned. She tried to keep the sudden bout of hostility she felt in check.

“I honestly did not know how to address this.” Ginny’s nose became scrunched when she grimaced in a failed attempt to smile. “And although Colin has not exactly said in as many words that his letter is confidential, it is a tricky situation. Harry first told him, he would only answer, if he could tell you about this.”

Ginny flattened the letter, that had become crumpled in her bag.

“Your Colin certainly is well-behaved.” Ginny said. “His letter was very polite.”

Hermione bent over the table to read Harry’s answer. She could easily guess what Colin’s question had been from Harry’s lines.

“Curse-breaking.” Hermione breathed, when she had finished. Her heart clenched. She passed the letter over to Pansy. Pansy was Colin’s godmother after all.

Pansy took her hand. “Colin really takes this very hard. But I am sure, we can help him. At least he doesn’t seem likely to barge in like a Gryffindor. He seems to give this some thought.”

“Small solace,” Hermione pressed Pansy’s hand in return.

“Oh Merlin,” Hermione closed her eyes. “Is it boys that are so difficult? I never worried so much about Rina.”

“That is because Rina ‘I do this alone, thank you very much’ would have been deeply offended if you had ever fussed about her.” Pansy remarked.

Hermione had to laugh.

“Well, school year is over tomorrow. We’ll have time then. Thank you, Ginny, for showing me this.”

Hermione tried to calm herself. Colin was obviously troubled, but she had known that already and it didn’t look like he would do anything foolish.

“By the way, what is Harry doing in Azkaban?” Hermione wanted to know.

“Checking one of his hunches on how to get rid of the dementors’ anchor there and probably trying to grill Sloane again.” If Ginny was worried, she did not show it. But Harry probably had been to Azkaban numerous times.

Pansy’s face showed a flicker of uneasiness.

“He did not go alone, Pansy.”

Pansy frowned and threw a look at Hermione. “I wonder that he has found anyone willing to go with him.”

Hermione looked at her friend askance. She had wondered, if Harry had confessed to Pansy and Neville. He obviously had.

Ginny skidded on her chair, biting her lip.

“You can be pissed at him and still worry, Pansy.” She patted her hand.

Pansy flushed. “I always wondered about his hunches you know. He always was amazing at getting into people’s head and imagine what the bad guys would do.”

She shook her head briefly as if to force her thoughts away. Silence followed her words and briefly Hermione thought about leaving again. She did not want to talk about Harry.

“I doubt Sloane will budge.” Hermione changed the subject. She was not good at doing this subtly, but Pansy and Ginny jumped at the opportunity.

“It certainly doesn’t look like it.” Ginny shook her head. She sounded resigned.

“We’ve already booked our holidays in Normandy. If Sloane doesn’t give in, we will find some obliging French cousin in the umpteenth degree who will step in to get a vast amount of money, inherit and undo the cut out.”

“If there is any money left.” Pansy remarked. “Narcissa is doggedly determined to get rid of it.”

“Draco is quite sure, that there is still enough to tempt the alleged cousin in the umpteenth degree.”

“But that is only because Narcissa can’t just spend it in one go,” Pansy remarked.

“And then?” Ginny asked. “Will Draco try to get rid of his _scutum_?”

Hermione frowned. “You do realise there is a catch.”

She would not roll her eyes. She would not. The tea had gone quite well so far.

She inhaled slowly and explained. “He would have to do a spell which he obviously cannot do, because he is under a _scutum_ , and he probably would have to cast at least a _patronus_ , which he has never done before….”

Pansy nodded. ”So far, the _patronus_ or the strange semblance of _patronus_ Neill did was the only thing that worked against the perpetuals. And wands with some kind of an occamy core.”

That led them to talk about the muggleborns. Apparently, Pansy had thrown herself into the subject and Neville and she also wanted to appeal for a curriculum on wizarding society in Hogwarts for muggleborns.

“I think you should do that for all the students,” Hermione argued. “It can’t hurt if wizards and witches from traditional families learn about some of the more problematic aspects of wizarding society.”

“Colin brought a house elf to class and forced everyone to learn about the elves’ curse, or so Neville told me.”

“Richard was flummoxed, that we Weasleys were supposed to break that. He even flood home to tell me about it.” Ginny’s face held the shadow of an amused smile. “You should have seen my parents’ faces!”

Hermione had to giggle at that. In a way it was a pity that she could not ask Molly, how Arthur and she had blundered with contraception. Their stories probably were as hilarious as her own.

Hermione leaned back and allowed her muscles to lose tension. She might ask Draco to give her back a massage this evening. She had to make the best of the fact, that she could still lie on her stomach.

Pansy and Ginny carried on collecting ideas on the new ‘history and society of the wizarding world’ curriculum, and Hermione sipped more of her tea and occasionally came forward with her own ideas.

It was all going rather well, and she was tempted to write a quick text to Draco and tell him that the tea was surprisingly pleasant. Over the years, she had almost forgotten how easy it could be to talk with Ginny.

Her necklace began to burn at her skin.

She jumped up and yelped, her hand reached at her throat in fear. Her heart beat erratically and it felt like it would fly out of her throat any moment.

She looked at her necklace, Colin’s garnet, and Lizzie’s citrine were shining and pulsing.

Pansy’s eyes widened.

“I’ll come with you.” Statute of secrecy or not, Pansy had already drawn her wand.

“What is it?” Ginny asked, alarmed.

“Colin and Lizzie are in danger.” Hermione did hardly recognize her own voice. “I’ll apparate to their magical signatures. It might take us a few steps. I’ve never done that before.”

She grabbed her bag. Pansy reached for her and before she could prevent her, Ginny held out her hand as well.

The apparition crack resounded loudly in her ears.

They landed somewhere on a green meadow and Hermione checked her necklace with trembling fingers. Closer, but not yet there. At least it looked like Colin and Lizzie were at the same place.

It took them four jumps to finally reach the spot where Colin and Lizzie should be. When the whirl of apparition had settled, nausea threatened to pull her under. They were in a small grove that looked wild and unkempt but, in the distance, she could see a house she had never thought to see again. Malfoy Manor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now see the events from several different overlapping PoVs. I think they are in the perfect order now and I hope it won't be too confusing.  
> @marydri looked at these chapters and all the kudos to her for discussing pacing, timing and chapter order!


	101. The disenchantment of Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rina wants to save her siblings.

Rina’s blood rushed through her veins. That bloody shawl must have been a portkey and now her siblings were, Merlin knew where. She wanted to scream. She raged that she had not reached them in time. Her cheeks felt strange, lined with burning heat.

She tried to focus. She fingered her bracelet. Alerting mum would do no good, because mum would apparate here, to Hogwarts, instead of wherever Colin and Lizzie had gone. She hoped that her stupid siblings would trigger the alarm immediately.

Should she conjure a _patronus_ and send it to mum? She gripped her wand and stepped back and bumped into someone. Someone who immediately steadied her.

When she turned, she had to look up. That had to be Uncle Neville.

“What happened?”, he asked, and his voice anchored her.

“Colin…. Lizzie…. The Pott-Weasels….” Rina stuttered.

“It must have been a portkey,” someone said.

Rina did not recognize the voice, because her ears rang. It might have been Rachel. She nodded.

“They fought about some stupid shawl James had. Colin pulled at it, and they all fell, and then they vanished.”

Uncle Neville let out a string of curses.

“David,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs. Rina did not know that Uncle Neville could shout that loud.

The prefect of Gryffindor was indeed near. Rina could hear him, but no matter how hard she blinked, she could not get a clear view of anyone.

“How could this happen, David. I thought I had made myself clear.” Uncle Neville’s voice was cold as a winter storm. Rina shivered.

“I don’t know, Professor Longbottom.” It did not sound like David at all, not like his usual confident self. “The portkey had been in my trunk since Christmas. You told us not to use it and I had planned on just giving it back tomorrow.”

“Colin yelled something about James having taken something from David’s trunk.” Rina was sure about that.

“I am going to kill George Weasley,” Uncle Neville’s voice was a growl, dark with anger. It made Rina’s hackles rise. Suddenly, she understood that Uncle Neville could be dangerous.

“Rina,” Uncle Neville laid a hand on her shoulder, and his face suddenly swam into focus.

Rina raised her hand to her face and touched her cheeks. Why were her hands wet?

“Focus,” Uncle Neville pressed her. “I am going to get them out. You and Rachel go to Professor Greengrass and tell her to floo the auror office.”

Rina nodded. Her brain still did not seem to work properly. Everyone but Uncle Neville was just a blur.

Uncle Neville let go of her shoulder and stepped back.

He raised his wand and accioed a small stone.

“ _Portus_ ”

Rina reacted too late. Her outstretched hand just met thin air.

“Where?” she wailed. “Where did they go?”

“Malfoy Manor,” David’s voice was just a whisper. His face was pale and anguished.

Rina felt as if someone had hit her with a bludger.

“Colin and Lizzie are at Malfoy Manor?” It sounded like a wail. Rina did not know how she even had the air to wail. She did not remember inhaling at all. Her heart hammered.

“The cut out….” She stammered. “They might die. If the magic recognizes them as dad’s children, they might die.”

Rachel took her hand. “Uncle Neville will save them. We need to tell Professor Greengrass.”

Rina stared at Rachel’s hand and let herself be led. David held her elbow. From the corner of her eye she saw John approaching. Her thoughts were whirling. Someone needed to revoke the cut out. There was no time for France, no time for Sloane to relent.

They were halfway to the school entrance when Rina stopped.

She forcefully pulled her hand out of Rachel’s grip, disengaging from David as well.

“Rina,” Rachel’s eyes were huge. “Please. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Professor Greengrass had just stepped out, led by Jane. For the sliver of a moment, Rina stared at her Charms professor. Her face was as serious as Uncle Neville’s, her lips slightly pressed together, her eyes were burning. She still had a way to go before she would reach her though.

With a sudden and violent turn, Rina wrenched herself free and ran. She had seconds before Professor Greengrass tried to stop her with a stunning spell. She dodged that barely but did not slow down.

She ran fast. Desperation drove her. Her chest was burning by the time she had reached the edges of the Forbidden Forest. She could hear several people shouting, calling out to her. She threw shields behind her at random to block the stunning spells that were fired at her. She conjured her _patronus_. When she risked a short glance back, she saw that her ferret had knocked David over and had absorbed a spell by Jane. Professor Greengrass took aim with her wand.

“Stop, Rina, stop”, she called.

But Rina did not stop. “ _Filiis et neptis_ ”, she whispered to herself. Her ferret closed in on her, just as she raised her wand, pointing at herself. Destination, Determination, Deliberation. She felt a pull. It had to work.

When her hand with the wand fell again, the crack of apparition echoing in her ears, she stood in the shadow of a grand entrance to a house, no, a palace, that was double the size of Nott villa. She held her wand on the ready and pushed open the tall wings of the entrance. She had not time to lose.

She summoned her ferret. The first step was hard, as if she were walking through sludge, but she sent her ferret and then she could pass in its wake. Her steps echoed loudly in the hall. The inside was gloomy and dusty. It certainly had the air of a cursed building.

After she had passed the grand staircase, she came to a set of doors, some light wood, maybe lime, but inlaid with dark ebony that formed the Malfoy crest held by two dragons and a gilded M in the middle. ‘Sanctiomonia vincit semper’ it read.

She heard murmuring, a myriad of voices, that gained volume.

She swung open the doors and for a short moment the murmuring stopped. Behind the doors was a hall that might have been used as a ballroom. At the very end Rina thought she saw a family tapestry. And portraits, many portraits, different styles, different centuries.

She squared her shoulders and entered just as the murmuring picked up again.

“Mudblood”

“Bastard”

“The audacity”

“Bitch”

She shrugged it all off, even though the murmuring became shouting and then a cacophony. She placed herself in the middle of the hall.

She waved her wand and stamped her foot and into the momentary silence she spoke one word.

“Mine.”

She felt a beat in the house, a drum too deep to be heard, making her feet tingle.

“I am Rina Granger-Malfoy and I lay claim to this house and these lands.”

She felt the beat again.

“How dare you? You have no right,” one of the portraits shrieked.

“I have a better right than Armand Malfoy ever had.”

“You’re a bastard, not born from a legal marriage.”

“So was the king who gave Armand these lands.”

“Your father was cut out. He should be dead.”

“I was sired before he was cut out.”

“You are a woman.”

“So was Regine Malfoy, Armand’s daughter, and the law has changed in the land by now. Women have equal rights.”

“Your mother doesn’t have pure blood.”

“Sanctimonia,” Rina said. “Purity. So many things can be pure. My baby brother has a pure heart, because he is small enough to be pure, my mother’s heart is full of pure fire burning for justice. My father’s love made him purer than he was when he lived in this house.”

She laughed in their faces. “But blood is never pure, it’s just red.”

She stamped her foot again, putting her own beat against the deep drum in the ground.

“I have the magic, and I have the strength.”

The voices of the portraits stopped. The silence was oppressive, dark, the beat in the ground went quiet.

In a far corner, she heard a raspy harsh chuckle. She peered into the shadows. It might have been the oldest portrait.

“Do you though? Do you even know what you claim? If you claim this, you must embrace it all, take it all. Are you prepared to accept it all? All your family’s history? If you claim this house, you cannot pick.”

“Try me. It’s me or no one.”

Another chuckle rose again, this one from a woman, musical and feminine.

“Let’s see if you can carry it. Take a stand and do not fall.”

She felt the ground vibrate again and chose to plant her feet a little apart, so that she stood in good balance.

The hall whirled, and she saw a green meadow, a half-burned house, that looked forsaken, two men on horses. They talked and at first Rina could not understand, until she realised it was some variant of French. She understood the gist of it.

_“I want this land,” one said. He had white blond hair. “There are ley lines all over the place. It’s a good place for a wizard’s house. The land is ripe for the picking with the former master dead.”_

_The other man nodded. He looked tall and regal. “Granted”_

_The tall man dismounted, stood beside a stone that was left from the house, a solid cornerstone. The tall man bent down and took a handful of earth. He placed it in the other man’s hand. Solemnly, slowly._

Rina knew she had witnessed Armand getting possession of the land. She saw quick flashes of his life, how he had subdued the serfs, and taken over the elves of the man who had held the land before him. She winced when he whipped them. She saw him walking with a woman who must have been his daughter, pointing, explaining.

Armand lived almost a thousand years ago, she told herself. He has nothing to do with me. Her blood drummed in her ears and the ground shook. She almost fell.

She saw the next Malfoy, Etienne, Armand’s nephew. A freckled lanky man with strawberry blond hair, he had not been nicer to the elves than his uncle and it made Rina frown. The woman who had been with Armand was at his side as well. They held hands and smiled at each other, when they worked earth magic and began to add a wing to the house. Rina saw that they used the stone she had seen at the feet of the king.

Again, she was almost thrown.

Her ancestors paraded before her eyes, one by one. She saw them ruling their land, relentless, occasionally brutal, and she shuddered in revulsion. Each time it was more difficult to keep standing, when the ground shook.

She thought she could hear the voices in the portrait murmuring, some were laughing, some wailing. She frowned. ‘ _You must embrace it’_. What did this mean?

When the life of her next ancestor flashed before her eyes, she tried to suppress her shudders at his outburst against some half-blood politician, at his outright murder of the woman in question. She did not want to embrace that.

She lost her footing for a second, when this vision had come to an end and barely managed to plant her feet again, after the ground had shook.

She could not accept that. So far, her ancestors had barely any redeeming qualities. Ambitious, ruthless men, some brutal, some cunning, some clever, some stupid, but most of them intent on keeping muggles off, keen on wizards’ isolation, maintaining their status with money, deceit, and the occasional murder. It made her heart clench and her legs feeble.

One of them gave her a sliver of hope. He had fallen for a half-blood woman and shouted defiance in his father’s face. He even lived with her for a year. But when his father died, he left her, took the money and the house and in a way, this was even worse than the actions of the cold-hearted bastard his father had been. She was not even surprised when she witnessed this man forging the house-elf pact. Sammael Malfoy.

The ground shook and she wobbled. She could feel tears on her cheeks. She would have to find a way to accept this, or she would fail. It did not help that the white-blond Malfoy hair reminded her of her own father far too often, or even her own face in the mirror. It became only worse, the closer the images came to her own time, the better she understood their language.

She saw her great-grandfather Abraxas Malfoy, scheming to topple the first muggleborn minister ever, finally resorting to a crippling poison that put the minister out of the picture. Abraxas had a dirty secret though. He secretly visited the muggle opera, syphoning money to the Royal College of Music where new singers were taught. The hypocrite.

The magic made her knees wobble and they almost touched the ground.

She witnessed Lucius joining the death eaters, his wife by his side, her father being born, then as a small child. There was something like happiness there, she could feel it, her grandfather doted on his wife, that was obvious and looked at his son with pride. He still smuggled a dark artefact into the cauldron of a small girl, he beat his elves. The tears on her cheeks did not dry.

She saw Lucius at her father’s trial, cutting out his own son. Dad was a blur, the magic sliding off his _scutum_ , but the despair in her grandmother’s face made Rina shudder. She saw her grandparents, alone in a house that was far too big, too lonely, too gloomy.

_Her grandfather was lying in bed, trying to speak, one half of his face slack. The tears he wept were wiped away by his wife. Her eyes were dark with a deep sadness._

_“I know you want to revoke the curse,” she said. She kissed his cheek._

_When he stopped breathing, she did not shed a tear, but squared her shoulders._

Rina heard the echo of her sobs in the hall, the voices of the portraits were only a hum in the background.

The manor’s magic was not done with her yet. She saw dad as a boy. He parroted his father in rants about blood traitors and the slack politics of the ministry. She saw him at Hogwarts, taunting Harry Potter, ridiculing her mother, making fun of any Gryffindor he could get hold of with his sharp tongue and quick wand. She was forced to witness every insult dad ever threw at mum. She saw how mum bravely faced it, retaliating with her own wit, not budging one bit.

Suddenly it was not despair or sadness that threatened to topple her, to make her lose her footing, but anger. She stomped her feet.

“This time, I know, you leave out the good things. My mother forgave my father, years ago. They are happy. You cheat.”

The voices of the portraits were hushed, the mirage of her ancestors vanished. Maybe the manor’s magic was not aware of her family’s happiness. Dad was outside of its range.

“I accept that all this happened. But that does not mean that I have to like it nor that I have to emulate my ancestors.”

She could feel a tension in the ground, a coiled spring ready to be released.

When the ground shook this time, she leaned into it, aligning to the rhythm. She closed her eyes. It felt as if a wave ran through her, but it did not break her. Her blood flowed through her veins in tune with the wave.

She could feel her own pulse beating in rhythm with the house.

It was as if her senses suddenly had broadened. She could feel the magic of the house like sunshine on her skin.

Rina opened her eyes. Light flooded into the hall and it looked as if the dust was dancing. She raised her wand and conjured a vision of her own. Her mother dressed for a ball, her father in a suit. They danced in tune with the beat of the house. Rina knew that they had never danced at school, but the house could suffer this one lie after feeding her so many half-truths.

“Mine.” Rina’s voice boomed. “I am Rina Granger-Malfoy and this house is mine. Mine and my siblings. You’d best swallow that.”

She inhaled deeply. “I revoke the cut out curse, Lucius Malfoy placed upon Draco Malfoy. He is my father, and he is welcome here.”

She waved her wand at her ancestors’ portraits. “And if any of you even thinks about insulting my mother, I will incinerate you on the spot. You have been warned.”

Some of them looked at her with round eyes, but the female voice that had talked to her in the beginning, gave off a musical laugh. “Well done.”

Now, with the light flooding the hall, Rina could see her. Her portrait was old, it looked medieval.

“Regine?” Rina asked.

The woman nodded and Rina nodded in turn.

“Now, where is grandmadam, where are Colin and Lizzie?”

“You should be able to locate them.”

Rina probed at her newfound sense of the ley lines and the magic of the land. The witch was right. She could feel the manor and the grounds, as if they were a web of silvery rivulets of water, whispering in her mind.

She frowned. The web was light, and glittering, save for one corner. A darkness sat there, a deep hole that sucked in the magic, thirsting, greedy, and at the centre of the darkness, she could feel tiny sparks, sparks that sang to her, repeating the rhythm of her own heartbeat, her siblings.

“You are the lady of the Manor now,” Regine told her. “You can just apparate, and you’d best hurry, if you want to see them alive.”

Rina raised her wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic is almost written.... That is why I finally put in how many chapters the fic will have.  
> Thanks again to @marydri for reading (and giving me so many headcanons!)


	102. Rogues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colin and Lizzie Granger-Malfoy, James Potter and Richard Weasley are portkeyed to the grounds of Malfoy Manor and have some strange encounters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really curious what you all will think about this.

When they landed somewhere else, Colin felt queasy for a moment.

“That was a damn portkey,” he shouted at James who had already picked himself up.

“Where are we?” Lizzie asked. Her voice shook.

Although it was early afternoon their surroundings had a dark look about them. They were in the middle of a small grove, a creek was whispering close by. It should not be as dark as it was, but the little wilderness was thick with undergrowth. It looked like it had been part of a park once, but it was neglected now. It looked untamed and wild. Old leaves covered the ground, and there was a smell of foulness and decay in the air that made Colin wish he could stop breathing. No sunshine reached the ground where they stood.

Peeping through the trees, Colin could see a house on a small hill, not more than a slope, but that was only for a moment. The house soon fell under the rapidly moving shadow of a cloud.

James fiddled with the shawl in his hand.

“We should get back, James,” Richard’s face was full of worry. “I don’t like this. This is creepier than the Forbidden Forest.”

“I don’t like this either.” Lizzie sounded close to tears.

James shook his head. “No. We’re here already. We’ll go to the manor, grab some dark artifacts and vanish again.”

Colin suddenly felt cold sweat run down his back. “Wait. Is this the Manor?”

He grabbed James by his collar. “Why do you have a portkey that brings us here of all places?”

He tried to shake him. “We have to get out of here. It’s dangerous.”

Richard’s eyes were round. “He’s right James. We need to leave. This is not a good idea.”

“This won’t take more than half an hour. Look, it’s so close. And we’ll have a house party like it should be. We will take care of that.”

Colin’s chest filled with red hot anger.

“You bloody git,” he screamed. “Do you want to kill us? What has my little sister ever done to you?”

They might be far enough from the house, but Colin did not want to stay one minute longer than necessary. If the magic of the grounds noticed them… He wondered why the place did not seem to be warded, why they had managed to enter so easily.

“Give me that portkey.” Colin had drawn his wand. He and James exchanged hexes. Their duelling was by now something like well-honed routine.

Richard tried to jump in between and was almost hit by a stunner. He cursed and Colin saw him dodge more of the spells that flew between him and James.

Lizzie begged them to stop. Their screams of frustration filled the small grove.

Richard had managed to get the shawl. He held it with the hem of his shirt.

“James, I’ll just get Lizzie back. She’s a Puff, after all. And then I return.”

Colin saw Richard approaching Lizzie.

“We have to touch the red and gold fringes,” Colin heard him say.

He would grab that cursed portkey with Lizzie. Colin fired another stunner at James and this time he hit him square in the chest. He jumped at the shawl in the exact moment that Richard and Lizzie grabbed at the fringes. Someone else would have to come back and fetch James, preferably an adult.

Colin’s left hand closed in on the shawl, with his right hand he tried to touch Lizzie without losing his wand.

They all toppled over each other and for a second Colin felt the pull of a portkey. But the flow that should have brought them to Hogwarts slammed into a wall, and when the portkey pull stopped they still lay on the ground in the grove.

There were some wards after all.

Richard looked flabbergasted at the shawl. His freckles stood out on his pale face. He shook the shawl as if shaking would make it work. Lizzie had skinned her knee. Her face was distorted in pain.

“Why can’t we go back?” Richard asked.

“Some wards slammed us back.” Colin told him. He shuddered. He could not have said if from fear or cold.

Lizzie looked at Colin with round eyes. Her lips had become red where she had bit on them in her pain, but there were goosebumps on her arms. She was cold as well.

“The young wizards can’t leave here,” a voice behind them said.

The voice sounded as if it came from close by and far away. As if it drifted over from another dimension. Colin turned to search for who had spoken. Richard seemed to exhale with relief.

“It’s just an elf,” he said.

“Hi! I’m Richard Weasley.” He waved and smiled.

Colin could not make out anything in the darkness of the grove and he squinted at the elf. It was as if he was looking at a picture that was smudgy at the edges, as if the elf bled into darkness at the edges. He wondered if the magic of house and ground had realised that they were here. If the cut out curse made everything blurry. They needed to get away.

“The children can’t break through the wards, not with a feeble portkey,” the elf said again. His voice sounded as if he had not used it for quite some time.

“They should not have come here.” He shook his head.

There were other voices and Colin saw that the elf was not alone. He could not have said how many elves there were, because he still did not manage to get a clear view of them. These elves did resemble the Hogwarts elves and Prudy, but it was difficult to make out details.

“I’m Colin Granger, my mother is Hermione Granger. We fight for your freedom.” Colin told him.

The elf’s gaze fell on Colin’s ring and a violent shudder ran through him.

“This ring says otherwise.” He pointed at Colin’s ring.

“Goppy grants that to the young wizard. He doesn’t look like he should have that ring,” He weighed his head back and forth.

“But this says, you’re one of the masters.” He tapped on the black stone of the ring that held the Malfoy crest.

Colin swallowed. Goppy was close, but still somewhat blurry.

“My mother was the lawyer who made contracts for all the elves.

“Not for us, oh, no, not for us.” The elf shook his head sadly.

Colin tried to remember if he had heard talk about the Malfoy elves. How had his parents’ marriage affected them? With a sudden pang he realised that he did not know.

“Can you help us get back to Hogwarts?” Richard asked. “We shouldn’t be here. Our teacher forbade us to come here.”

“Us can well believe that.” was the answer.

The other elves closed in following Goppy who had talked to them. Colin did not hear their little feet rustling through the dead leaves. Maybe because the blood was pounding in his ears or maybe because Richard’s breathing had become erratic and loud.

His eyes burned. It looked like the elves were gliding over the ground. It looked as if black ink bled out of their feet.

Richard’s smile had vanished from his face and was replaced by a frown.

“Something is not right,” Lizzie whispered. Her voice shook.

Colin felt a sudden terror when he realised that the elves’ faces were not friendly.

“They won’t leave here alive,” Goppy said. He shook his head as if he were sad.

Colin felt goosebumps all over his skin.

He raised his wand. “ _Finite incantatem.”_

The shadowy elves around him chuckled. “They can’t just undo the wards with such a common spell.”

That had not been Colin’s intention. He had undone the stunner on James.

It was no use. There were too many of them. They all tried to resist and fought. Lizzie bit like a hellcat. James and Richard shouted and kicked, Colin tried hexes, but there were too many elves, and it was impossible to get a grip on them or hit them with spells, since the hexes just skittered off.

Their hands reached out and grabbed them. When Colin tried to disentangle himself from their iron grip, his hands almost slid through them.

Lizzie protested, told them that they were friends to elves. It was no use. The elves had them bound and bundled up after a short time. They laid their wands on the ground before them.

“Unhand us,” James shouted. “I am James Potter. My father is Head Auror!”

The elf who seemed to the leader looked at them, satisfaction in his voice, ignoring James’s protests. “Four of us free, when the morning comes.”

The elves muttered and clapped in applause.

“Willing or unwilling, their souls will pay for freedom. At midnight. Us have waited so long to get some wizards.”

The four children were put in a circle together. Colin could feel Lizzie trembling. Or it might have been himself.

“Colin,” she whispered. “Do you think this counts as an emergency?”

Colin nodded, dumbfounded.

Lizzie tried to wriggle her hands and reach her bracelet. But it was difficult with bound hands. Colin had better luck with getting his ring off.

But the ring slipped from his fingers and bounced off the ground and landed at James’ feet.

The elf laughed. “Me saws the ring, no use hiding that now.”

Colin’s heart pounded in his chest. He heard Lizzie whisper something to Richard. Colin tried to catch James’s gaze, who was staring with round eyes at the elves.

Colin shook his head fast and screamed.

“That won’t help. Nobody can hear the children in this warded place.”

But James had stopped to stare and looked at him. Colin gestured to the ring, pointing with his nose.

James’ eyes widened.

“Stamp,” Colin told him.

James hopped up and down, bound as he was, and his feet finally landed on the ring. Colin saw a myriad of sparks ascend from the ring and another set of sparks from where Richard had torn Lizzie’s bracelet from her arm.

A crack of apparition boomed through the air, but it was not mum who had entered the grove. The woman who suddenly stood before them was elderly and though Colin had never seen her, he knew who she must be. She did not look like he had pictured her. She was far smaller than he would have thought. She looked fragile. Dad must have gotten his height from his father.

Her wand was raised in defence.

The leader of the elves grinned at her. “Ah, another one.”

“You will release these children at once.” Her voice was cold and sharp. It cracked like a whip.

A shudder ran through the elves and some of them hunched before her.

Suddenly the elves were not smudged at the edges any longer. Sunshine seemed to enter the grove. Their faces became round again, even a shadow of friendliness touched their faces. A few of them creeped closer and Colin could feel a small hand that cut at his ropes.

“Lady Malfoy cannot order us any longer, that bluff will not work.” The leader Goppy was still a shroud of darkness.

A shadow fell on the elves. The little hand that had touched Colin’s hand lost substance and it slid away, leaving a feel of ice-cold slime on Colin’s hand.

Narcissa Malfoy waved her wand and a silvery swan sprang out.

The elves hissed, whenever the swan touched them. Colin thought he heard screaming, but as if it were not at the same place as them, somewhere far away, or maybe close by. He shook his head. It must be his imagination.

The sole _patronus_ was hard pressed. The elderly witch had a very determined look, but Colin could see that the spell took its toll. He felt sadness press on him, suffocating him.

“Can you free yourselves?” His grandmother looked shortly at them. Colin shook himself and showed her his left hand that had been freed. He worked on his other hand.

He had barely managed to get free, when the shadowy elves closed in again. They gave his grandmother a wide berth, and her swan picked at them relentlessly.

She shouted at them, but this time he could barely see the elves becoming more solid again. Colin fought against being bound again and managed to get hold of his wand. He stunned one of the elves, just as grandmadam tried to order them again.

When their edges began to dissolve again, the stunned elf stood and glided to join the others. Grandmadam cursed. Her brow was furrowed.

“Their transition is almost complete. Only a _patronus_ helps.”

“Transition?” he asked. He looked closely at the elves. The way, the darkness clung around them, the way that it was difficult to focus on them. How it looked like black ink bled from them.

“Are they becoming dementors?” James asked. His voice sounded small and frightened, not oozing with self-confidence as usual.

Colin shuddered. Dementors!

Another crack filled the air. Colin could have wept. That must be mum.

And indeed, mum apparated almost on top of the elves, aunt Pansy was with her and Ginny Potter.

For what felt like an eternity, mum stood frozen staring at the Manor that was visible through the trees. The shadowy elves crept closer to her and Colin shuddered when he saw them touch her. He did not like the gleam of hunger in their eyes.

“Mum,” Lizzie wailed.

“Aunt Ginny,” Richard called.

Mum shook herself and when her gaze fell on the silver swan, she waved her wand. All three witches shouted, and the swan was supported by a horse, a mongoose and mum’s otter.

Colin sagged with relief, when the _patronus_ animals began to circle them. Finally, he had enough space to wriggle free from his remaining bonds. He cut Lizzie’s ties and held her, when she hugged him and they both ran to mum. James and Richard had reached Ginny Potter.

The _patronus_ circle worked well to hold the elves at bay but they did not retreat, their eyes full of burning need.

“Mrs Malfoy,” mum said, inclining her head.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Considering how close you are to my family, you might call me Narcissa.”

Mum returned the smile. “Narcissa.”

“How the hell did you get here,” she asked Colin. “This is definitely the last place on earth you two should be.”

James Potter confessed.

Gryffindors had filched dark artefacts from his grandparents for decades, as a trial of courage before the house party. This big event had been forbidden by Uncle Neville. Each year there had been a portkey provided by George Weasley. David Finnigan had gotten the portkey this year over the Christmas holidays and had buried it in his trunk.

“I had no idea!” Colin was astonished.

“Professor Longbottom made a big speech after Christmas,” Richard said. “Or so we were told. You were in the library, we were trying out the invisibility cloak.“ He flushed deeply.

Ginny Potter’s face definitely reminded Colin of a winter storm.

“He promised not to do this again! I’m going to kill George.” Her voice held a menace that made Colin almost pity George Weasley.

“Get in line.”

Uncle Neville approached through the trees, his mongoose on the ready. “The devious bastard only promised not to hand out portkeys from now on and conveniently forgot to mention that he had already given one to David.”

The elves hissed when Neville’s mongoose joined Pansy’s. It sounded frightening.

“We should concentrate on getting the children out.” Mum’s voice was on edge.

“They won’t get out.” That was the raspy voice of the elf leader, Goppy.

His laughter sent shivers through Colin’s spine. “Oh, they can hold us off with their silver animals, but they can’t disapparate or portkey away. Madame Malfoy warded us in herself. After the master’s death, before us changed.”

A wild joy was in the answering and cheering voices of the elves.

“They might be powerful witches and wizards, but they can’t hold on to their _patronus_ charms forever. And then their souls belong to us. Us. To do with what is needed. Freedom.”

Colin was at a loss. “Why are you so vicious?”

“The masters, they stole our true forms. They return, if us do a harvest, the souls of wizards and witches.”

“That can’t be true.” Colin whispered. “There must be another way to free you.”

Colin had been so sure, that he knew what would be necessary to free the elves. Soul-stealing had not been on his list.

“If you become dementors to steal souls, you will never be free. No dementor was ever released from their pain. That is just a lie that Ekrizdis told his elves. And they fell for it and became even more miserable than their enslaved brothers and sisters.” Grandmadam’s voice was tense but determined.

The elves hissed.

“She lies,” they said. “This is the only way to freedom. Us don’t listen to Prudy.”

“They want to kill us to be free?” Richard asked.

“It certainly looks like that.” Aunt Pansy sounded grim. “But we can hold the _patronus_ for some time. If there are enough wizards and witches, we should be able to crash through anything they put up as wards. We just need reinforcement. Ginny can you do Harry’s trick with the multiple _patronus_?”

Ginny Potter shook her head. She looked forlorn.

“I told the students at Hogwarts to alert Astoria. She’ll floo the auror department.”

Ginny Potter moaned. “Harry is in Azkaban today. She might not reach anyone.”

“Do you think we can move?” mum asked.

“I warded the elves in, and we are within their wards now.” Grandmadam said. “We won’t be able to leave the grounds.”

“Can we reach the alley to the manor? Without the magic of the land being alerted to their presence?” She pointed at Colin and Lizzie.

“We can try.”

Mum took her phone out and checked the signal.

“Please, be all quiet. I need to be very careful about this.

She touched her phone. Colin heard the phone ring. Mum must have put it on speakers.

After three rings, dad picked up.

“Hi love,” he heard dad say. “You won’t believe who I saw in Diagon alley today.”

His voice sounded amused. “Believe it or not, Weasel King has a new girlfriend and of all people it is Ms. ‘most annoying customer ever’. Speaking about two nuisances successfully removing themselves from the marriage market to everybody’s relief.”

“Love,” mum tried to interject.

“You don’t even laugh. I was trying to come up with the funniest way to tell you the news and you don’t even laugh. What’s up? Was the tea with Weaselette that bad?”

“Love, it’s WCS time.”

“WCS?” Dad’s voice toppled over.

“Yes, guess where I am.” Mum prodded grandmadam.

“Hello Mr. Miller,” she said. “Your lovely wife is with me as are two of your children, although I really wish circumstances were different.”

Colin could hear dad sucking in his breath.

“How long will it take you to get here by car?” Mom’s voice was clipped.

There was a pause. “Two hours. Maybe two and a half.”

“We can hold on for that long. Try to bring Meg and Robert to safety. Take the van, drive up to the gate and pray that Severus Snape’s genius will save us yet again.”

“What do I have to expect?” Dad’s voice had a tremble to it.

“Remember Tolkien? The deadly enemies of the Noldor? Something like that. Our eldest or Astoria probably alerted the auror department, but they might not get here in time and I’m not sure if they even can help.”

“I guess you won’t care about speeding tickets.”

“No, I won’t, but if you don’t arrive that won’t be any help either.”

Mum quickly brushed over her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Dad’s voice was only a whisper.

Mum hung up.

Aunt Pansy held out her hand. Mum paused for a moment but then gave her phone to Pansy. Pansy typed in a number.

“Dudley? Do you have Harry’s mobile number?”

“No, I can’t send him a _patronus_ right now. I need my _patronus_.”

“Tell him, there is an emergency at the place where we went just after New Year, and that his wife is here as well, James and Richard and other children, and that he’d best get his arse here and as many others he can get on short notice. Tell him, if he arrives in time, Neville and I might consider talking to him again.”

Colin wondered about that. He was not aware that there had been a fight between the Longbottoms and the head auror.

Pansy returned the phone to Hermione.

“Just in case, Astoria doesn’t get hold of any auror.”

Slowly they moved out of the grove, the silver animals running in circles around them and the elves packed closely around them, unrelenting with burning and hungry eyes. When they left the grove, Colin wondered how he had not seen the apparent transformation before. In the sunlight, it was clear, that these were not elves any longer. If he had not been so afraid for himself and for everyone with them, he would have wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, possibly the biggest twist of all.
> 
> Colin in the midst of all the rogue elves is for me the very beginning of this fic. This scene was the first that came to my mind....


	103. Worst Case Scenario

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco tries to reach the Manor on time to save Hermione, Colin and Lizzie.

The phone felt like a weight in his hand. For a moment, Draco’s dread and fear threatened to pull him under. Completely.

He would have time later to think what it all meant.

“Meg,” he called.

His daughter looked up from where she sat on the floor. Robert and she were doing a puzzle. Actually, Meg did the puzzle and Robert was just happy to fetch the puzzle pieces Meg had distributed in the living room. The puzzle was a picture of balloons.

He shoved his fear away. One thing after the other. Meg and Robert.

“Meg, mum called. There is an emergency, and I have to pick her up. Can you watch over Robert for half an hour? I’ll try and call someone to look after you both, eh?”

“As long as it is not Mrs. Jameson,” Meg shrugged. She was about to resume puzzling and sent Robert after a piece that had fallen under the sofa.

Draco tried to reach Monica and Wendell, but they didn’t pick up the phone. Luna and Blaise were still in India, they would only return tomorrow to fetch Rachel at the Hogwarts Express. And Blaise still had not gotten a phone anyway. In his desperation, he even called for Prudy, although he had not done that for years. And in nine out of ten cases she didn’t hear him anyway. He tried Mark and Anne the muggle parents of Meg’s friend at school and got hold of them, but they were already on their way to Scotland for the holidays.

Draco’s heart thudded. He cursed the holiday season.

Meg looked up, her face in a frown. Draco forced a smile on his face. “I’ll try Saima,” he told her.

He breathed a sigh of relief, when he heard the voice of Malcolm’s wife. He tried to find a plausible muggle explanation and invented a football accident of Colin’s in the middle of nowhere. Saima didn’t ask too many questions.

“Just call our landline when you arrive, and Meg will open the door.” Leaving a key for Saima would be no use. Meg would have to bring her through the wards.

Saima told him that she could manage in about half an hour if there was not too much traffic. Draco winced. His estimate of two hours had not accounted for traffic. When he had driven to the Manor in November to skirt around the grounds, when his father was buried, it had been a normal day, not holiday season.

“Saima will be here in half an hour. She’ll ring and then you can open the door, o.k., poppet?”

Meg frowned. “Won’t you wait until she is here?”

Draco shook his head. “I really need to go.”

He moved the corners of his mouth. “Don’t use your new wand, o.k.? Be sensible! Look after your brother.”

One item down, on his list. Car keys. Wallet. Driving licence. He mentally ticked off one thing after the other.

Go outside. Open the van. Sit down.

For a moment he just sat there. He felt as if he would throw up any moment. He got up again and opened both doors of the van and held on to the open door at the driver’s side. He actually threw up and had to wait a moment, inhaling deeply, until the nausea had receded somewhat, and his hands had stopped shaking too badly. If he had an accident, he could help nobody.

He felt as if he was in a nightmare. As soon as he had started the engine, time seemed to slow down. It was lucky that he had been at his father’s funeral in November, or he wouldn’t even know where to go on the muggle map. His fingers still trembled when he punched the address into the satnav.

He concentrated on driving, reciting traffic rules he had learned when he took driving lessons. He quoted recipes. It would be some time before he ran out of that. He ran through lists of potion ingredients. He desperately did anything to distract himself from thinking about the fact that Hermione and the children were in danger. He needed to function. Panicking would be of no use. He had two hours to kill. He would think about what Worst Case Scenario exactly meant, when he arrived.

At some point he started the CD player and listened with half an ear to Neill McGregor telling about the ‘History of the World in 1000 objects.’

He realised small details. Strangely the plastic box he used for shopping did not rattle.

The fair weather seemed to mock him. The traffic was not too heavy, thankfully. When he reached the motorway, he pressed the gas pedal as if Blaise sat by his side and they had rented a sportscar. The view through the rear window was somehow blurred, but in the side mirrors he could see other drivers making rude gestures at him.

When he had driven about an hour, his luck ran out and he was pulled over by a police car. He gritted his teeth, trying not to scream at the police officer, that his wife and children were in danger, that they were at a cursed house, that they were threatened by something like orcs, if he had understood Hermione correctly. Twisted elves more likely. He remembered that Prudy had told him about the still enslaved elves at the Manor.

Again, he told the story about how his son had been hurt at a football game. Unfortunately, the officer was not of the friendly sort.

“This is not a German Autobahn, Mr Miller.” The officer scowled.

Draco had to laugh. “I should have realised. Everyone drives on the left side after all.”

He could have slapped himself. Now was definitely not the time to hone his wit. His mind played tricks with him. He thought he heard a whisper.

Suddenly the officer began to smile vaguely. “Well, Herr Müller,”. He looked at Draco’s driving licence. “I’ll let it pass this time. You’re a tourist after all. Just don’t continue to drive so recklessly.”

“Thank you, officer,” he said. He took back his driving licence and for a moment, the document looked pink and there was a German name on it.

It took Draco a moment to process what he had heard and seen. There had been no rattle of the plastic box the entire time. The car had been too quiet. The view through the rearview mirror had been smudgy.

He turned and looked at the seats in the back. He would not have realised, if he had not known, it was there. A shimmer in the air.

“I told you not to use your wand, Meg.”

His disobedient daughter did not even react.

“I know you confunded that officer, Meg. I can see your disillusionment charm. Drop it, now.”

His phone rang. It was Saima. She informed him that she had been detained on the tube, that she had just arrived, that Meg did not open the door.

“She is here. She smuggled herself into my car.”

The disillusionment charm dropped. Meg had a defiant look on her face. Robert sat in the children’s chair at her side, safely belted in, one of his beloved balloons in his hands. Meg had probably taken that, so he would come along willingly. The balloon was glittering in rainbow hues. She must have charmed it.

“Yes, Robert as well. She hid them both under a blanket. I’ve just realised.”

“Believe me, Saima, the only thing, that saves Meg right now from being throttled is the fact that at least she belted herself and Robert in.”

Draco checked his watch. “Nothing to do, but take them along. If I drive back now, I’ll never be on time. Thank you again, Saima, I owe you. And I’m sorry you came in vain.”

He disconnected and started the engine again, quickly picking up speed again.

“What exactly was unclear about ‘Wait for Saima, look after your brother and don’t use your wand’, Meg?”

He looked in the rearview mirror, and saw that Meg was crying silently.

“There is danger, and you don’t have magic,” she sobbed. “I knew something was wrong, when you said you would not wait for Saima. And called me poppet. And then you threw up.”

Draco drew a shuddering breath. “Your mother told me to first ensure that you’re both safe.”

Meg sniffled. Robert scrunched his face in sympathy with his sister.

“I can’t drive you back or I might be too late. You have to do exactly as I tell you, Meg, no skirting around orders. This is far too dangerous.”

Meg nodded. She looked contrite.

“Don’t let Robert leave the van. Don’t leave the van yourself. It might mean your life. Mum asked me to take the van. I suspect she wants me to crash through some wards with the _scutum_ on the van. And get them. She couldn’t be explicit.” He could only hope that the magic of the Malfoy lands would not recognize Colin or Lizzie before he arrived. He remembered vividly the pressure on his _scutum_ , when he had brushed the borders at his father’s funeral.

“Them, who is with her?”

“Grandmadam, Colin and Lizzie. I thought I heard Pansy.”

“Why can’t they apparate out?”

“I suspect some rogue elves are involved. Elf magic can be very powerful, and they probably have them cornered, somehow.”

Meg began to cry again. Draco would have buried his anger and tried to console her, if there had been time. He desperately tried to hold on to his sanity.

“Dad?” she asked after a while. “Can you put on ‘Winnie Pooh’? How they escape Owl’s house after the storm has turned it upside down?”

Draco did as she bade and reminded her of the tissues in the door of the car.

He began reciting potion ingredients again under his breath. Meg’s sobs quieted and Robert, oblivious to everything, began to play with the balloon.

His guts clenched when he finally reached the road that led to the Manor. The time for reciting potion ingredients was over. His fingers clenched on the steering wheel.

The Manor looked exactly like he remembered it from his childhood, not as gloomy and dark as it had looked in November.

The stones shone in the sunlight, and it looked like a beautiful house. Draco wondered about that.

The park looked as neglected as it had looked in November. A darkness hung around the little grove where he had played as a child, building dams in the small rivulet. That was new.

The gates loomed ahead. Draco stopped the van and picked up his phone. His fingers trembled when he pressed the button. Hermione did not pick up. He tried to calm his breathing.

“Meg, I might need your wand after all.”

He got out of the car and opened the side door of the van.

“Don’t get out, just your wand hand, aim at the gates and shout ‘bombarda maxima’.”

Meg did as she was told and succeeded. The grates were utterly destroyed, and there was enough room for the van to go through.

Robert clapped his hand. “Boom,” he shouted happily.

There was no time to wonder, if he would set his children on a path towards being as destructive as Seamus Finnigan.

He climbed into the car again and hit the gas pedal. The gravel on the alley to the house sprayed away from the wheels. He pressed the call button again. No answer.

Where should he be headed? He looked around, panicking. Where was Hermione? She knew he would arrive by car. She would be on the alley or somewhere close.

“Pick up the phone, Granger, damn you!” Draco shouted.

The Manor still sat silently on the hill, the alley leading up to it. Draco could not savour the aesthetic view. Neither Hermione nor anybody else was to be seen.

When he closed in, he saw a thin grey finger rise from the Eastern Wing. It looked like someone reached out to touch the cloud that approached the Manor from above. The shadow of the cloud sped in tune with Draco over the alley.

The finger grew thicker, and with sudden clarity, Draco realised it was smoke. The Eastern Wing was on fire.

He forced the van up to the house, without any regard for bushes of wild roses or any of the flower beds. Chunks of earth sprayed around the van in high arches.

When he stopped the van at the terrace of the Eastern Wing, the thin finger of smoke had become thick billowing clouds. He opened the door of the van, bracing himself to be covered with attacks on his _scutum_ the moment the Manor’s magic noticed him. He expected to feel the cut out tenfold and could only hope that the _scutum_ would hold.

He stepped out of the car and felt nothing. He had no time to be surprised.

“Stay put,” he told Meg and sped towards the door. He looked through the terrace door, a wave of heat hit him. The drawing room behind the door was not on fire yet, but it was already filled thick with smoke. Draco’s breath almost stopped when he remembered how Hermione had been down on this very floor, screaming under Bellatrix’ wand. When Draco saw how many people laid in the room unconscious he cursed. He hoped they were unconscious. He did not dwell on that thought.

He opened the door of the van in haste. He ripped off his shirt and held it out to Meg.

“Meg, cast _aguamenti_ on that.”

When the shirt was dosed with water, he wound it hastily around his head. Nothing to do, but pull out one person after the other and hope that the Eastern Wing would not collapse before that or that it was all in vain because everybody was dead already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is also full of angst.....
> 
> All the chapters are entwined now. So you will have to wait until Monday to learn why everybody is in the Manor at the end of this chapter!
> 
> Thanks to marydri for reading this chapter in advance!


	104. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danger closes in ...

Their slow progress had brought them to the alley that led to the house, but they ran into grandmadam’s wards there.

“I cannot undo these wards,” she told them. “I set them shortly after my husband’s funeral, when I still had a semblance of control over the elves and when they were still … well elves. I wanted to detain them. The wards were supposed to keep everyone in. Their transition seems to have shattered my control over the wards.”

At least they were in the sun, and the looming presence of the rogue elves was less oppressive. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait for the aurors or dad. Dad with the van. The van that was immune to magic by some strange accident. It made Colin’s thoughts whirl.

Lizzie was the first to sit down on the grass. “Mum,” she said. “I am so tired.”

She rubbed her eyes and huddled closer, when mum sat down as well.

Mum rummaged in her bag and produced some slices of Swedish bread.

“I really regret not taking that sandwich with me,” she said. “Does anyone have chocolate?”

Richard had some chocolate frogs in his pocket, and he distributed them fairly. For a little while, the dark figures around them seemed less threatening.

James and Richard edged closer to Ginny Potter who had sat down as well.

The _patronus_ animals were circling them all, but the adults took turns in casting on the insistence of grandmadam.

“The _patronus_ charm keeps them at bay,” she explained. “But it also makes their self- actualisation as dementors stronger.”

Right now, it was the two mongooses who did the patrolling. Colin observed them with awe. The way they walked in sync was oddly calming to his whirling thoughts. Ginny Potter tried to send her horse to her husband, but the _patronus_ was held back by the wards.

Lizzie had closed her eyes, her head in mum’s lap, confident that they would be rescued. Colin envied her. He was glad his mum had come, but he could not stop his imagination. Just thinking about losing his soul made him shudder in fear. At the same time, he felt pity and disgust.

“Grandmadam,” he whispered. It was funny to call her that to her face. Colin had spoken to her on the phone occasionally, but it was always a dance with words.

Narcissa Malfoy looked up.

“What happens if … “ He would have to be careful how to word this. He licked his lips.

“If the magic takes note … ?” She pointed at him and Lizzie.

Colin nodded.

She pressed her lips together. “I can’t predict that. The magic here has been in upheaval ever since my husband’s death. I don’t think it would be a good idea to trigger the magic. It might come down to that if we run out of options.”

Mum looked up from giving calming strokes to Lizzie.

“They might be able to get away”, she whispered and pointed at Ginny Potter, the two boys that sat at her side and Pansy and Neville. “By saying a certain name.”

“You as well.” Grandmadam studied her with clear eyes and squared shoulders.

“I doubt it.” Mum gave her an apologetic smile and gestured at her belly.

“Oh,” Grandmadam said.

“We wanted to tell you after the 12th week.”

“No need for drastic measures yet, though. There is still time.” Uncle Neville said. He didn’t seem fazed much by conjuring his _patronus_.

“And if you think, we’re going to leave you here, think again.” He shook his head.

“No need to become all Gryffindor about the situation,” Pansy rolled her eyes and Colin had to laugh at her grimace.

“Oh, we absolutely have to get out, all of us.” Ginny Potter’s face was grim. “I really, really want to strangle George.”

“Aunt Ginny, you can’t do that.” Richard’s face was unhappy.

She frowned at him. “Watch me. And while I am at it, I am tempted to strangle you two as well. Whatever possessed you to go against Neville’s strict orders?”

“Don’t be angry with Richard, mum. He tried to dissuade me the whole time. It is all my fault.” Colin had never seen James so subdued.

Ginny Potter scrutinized her son. “Hold on to that thought, James. If we make it out of here, I want you to remember this day every time you do as much as think about doing some mischief or other.”

James looked close to crying. Colin had little to no pity with him.

***

The waiting was the worst. Colin would never have guessed that boredom and fear were not mutually exclusive. He envied Lizzie, who slept peacefully on mum’s lap. He wished he could do so as well. Anything to pass the time.

It was time again for the two mongooses to take over the watch. Mum let her otter go and horse and swan vanished as well. Colin thought that the animals had looked a shade less silvery than the freshly conjured mongooses. He might have imagined it. For a moment, the rogue elves’ eyes had been filled with that frightening need again. Colin could practically feel their patience running thin.

“Colin,” James whispered. He had come over to crouch down at Colin’s side.

Colin ‘s head perked up.

“Look, I am sorry. I am really sorry. I didn’t want to take you or your sister here.”

Colin frowned at his classmate.

“My mum has been telling me for ages, that I should not taunt you. I should never have done that. It was wrong to bully you about you being a Mal… ”

Colin clamped his hand over James’ mouth.

“Merlin’s balls, James,” he almost shouted. “No names. No fucking names. Why do you never listen in class? Remember what we learned from the Greengrass guide.”

James’ eyes over Colin’s hand had grown wide.

Colin gestured at the elves. “This is enough of a problem, you bloody idiot.”

Ginny Potter began to giggle, and everybody looked at her, puzzled.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” she gasped for air. “Colin, you do sound like … “

She sobered and looked at mum. “Someone I knew quite well.”

“I think my name is no hazard.” There was the shadow of a smile on mum’s lips.

The adults took turns with casting the _patronus_ more frequently now, and Colin worried about the fact that their shine was diminishing.

“Should we try as well?” He had his wand on the ready.

Mum looked at her watch. “He should be here soon.”

Her face was worried. “The van is not that fast, and there might be traffic.”

Colin tried nevertheless to cast a _patronus_ as did Richard and James, but they did not manage more than short-lived silver strands.

“We still have some options.” Neville laid a hand on Colin’s shoulder. “Don’t exert yourselves.”

Ginny Potter’s horse was the first _patronus_ to vanish. She cried in anguish, and the rogues pressed in immediately, until the swan picked at them relentlessly.

The strain on the others took its toll and after a while the other animals vanished as well, one by one winked out. Mum’s otter and one of the mongooses were the last. They huddled close, their backs to the wards.

Colin looked at Uncle Neville who had placed himself in front of the children, his face grim and determined. Strangely enough he had placed his wand in his left hand.

“Last resort,” mum called. “We trigger the erratic cut out.”

Grandmadam moaned.

“James, Richard, who is my husband.”

“Draco Malfoy.” They answered in unison, but nothing happened.

“Why are they not thrown out?” Pansy whispered.

“Harry might have persuaded Sloane to revoke the cut out.” There was something like resignation in Ginny Potter’s voice. “This is impeccable timing”.

One of the rogues came closer and tried to grab Lizzie, but Uncle Neville was faster. A shining sword was in his hand and the rogues wailed. Colin drew Lizzie behind his back, telling her to stand behind him. Uncle Neville held the elves in check, brandishing the sword. The shine on the blade was a glimmer in the pressing smoky darkness of the surrounding rogues. And while hexes had not hurt them, their smoky limbs were affected by the sword. Uncle Neville did a dance in front of them all, graceful and dangerous.

There was a sudden crack, and Rina stood above them on the alley, just outside the wards, her hair a halo around her head.

“Rina,” mum shouted. “Get away, this is too dangerous.”

But Rina came closer and passed the wards. Her face was a snowstorm, her voice was thunder.

“Unhand them.”

The rogue elves shuddered before her, hunching down, whimpering, their hand stretched out in a silent plea.

“You will obey.”

Rina raised her wand and Colin thought he felt a beat in the ground.

“I am Lady Malfoy, and your mistress.”

The elves grovelled, and just like when grandmadam had shouted at them, their form returned to normal. Only this time the form held. The wards collapsed. Sudden sunshine broke through the clouds and the elves lost all their dread. Harmless, friendly faces with big eyes.

“How?” mum asked. She looked at Rina with awe.

Rina came closer and suddenly she looked like Colin’s older sister again, a face he knew from birth.

“I claimed the Manor and the lands and just took it, just like Armand Malfoy did.”

She bent down and picked up a piece of earth.

“I took it for me and my siblings and revoked the cut out.”

Colin looked at the elves with despair. They swarmed around Rina, kissing her hands. Bile rose in his throat.

“Rina, you reasserted the elves’ curse,” he shouted.

He had to act fast, very fast.

He unwound himself from Uncle Neville who towered over him.

“Prudy,” he shouted, his voice toppling over.

His friend apparated at his side. Her eyes filled with terror when she saw the subdued Malfoy elves.

“It is time.” Colin knew it. It was now or never.

He turned to his grandmother. “Where is the cornerstone? The cracked cornerstone. There must be one!”

“East Wing”, she answered.

Colin stretched out his hand to Prudy. “Please, bring me there.”

The little elf took Colin’s hand and just as she snapped her fingers, she got a hold on the sword Uncle Neville had swung.

They landed in some grand salon, a drawing room perhaps, but Colin had no eyes for the decadent beauty. Prudy and he ran to the far corner of the room, where Colin saw a crack in the wall that went way into the ground.

It was slowly closing.

With desperation Colin threw himself at the stone. He tried to hold up the crack with his bare fingers, with his wand, but he could not slow the stone healing itself the rims of the crack flowing together.

“Colin, the chisel,” Prudy shouted. She handed him the sword.

Colin knew then. Now, he would learn if he were a Gryffindor after all.

He drove the sword into the crack, to the hilt. He could feel a shiver running through the stone, through the house, as if a sprung coil did unwind. He felt the resonance in his bones, and groaned. He could see a fine web spreading from where the sword had hit. He could feel a pull. A pull at his magic.

He fixed his eyes on Prudy. “Now is the time.”

Prudy hesitated. Her eyes glistened.

“Damn it Prudy, now is the time. I knew this was coming. I prepared myself. Just do, whatever is necessary.”

He took her hand. “I trust you. You won’t suck my soul, I know. I won’t die. And I don’t care if I become a muggle.”

Prudy pressed his hand in return and laid her other hand on the stone. She nodded.

The pull became stronger. Colin groaned. It was not painful, but disagreeable, weakening, he had to refrain from shying back.

He pressed his hand around the sword until his knuckles turned white. And tried to calm his breathing. The pull began to hurt.

The fine web where the stone had cracked changed to a silvery colour and began to shine as if the tiniest stars had decided to settle on it. Colin thought he got a glimpse of shadowy figures just where the crack had finally opened wide. The silvery lines reached out and touched the shadowy figures. Each of them would shortly shine with glaring light and then wove the light around themselves. Then they receded as if entering another room.

Colin groaned. The pull became almost too much to bear.

“More slowly,” he pressed out.

The pull decreased, and he tried to align himself to the steady flow. Prudy held his hand, her face set in grim concentration. Colin thought he could feel the need and the hunger from the shadowy figures through his connection to them. Not the hunger to murder, to annihilate like in the eyes of the rogues, but a wild hunger nevertheless, a need, finally acknowledged, finally about to be satisfied.

He could glimpse more and more of the shadowy figures, grabbing at the silver lines. Prudy began to sweat.

“Don’t hold back.” Colin gritted his teeth.

Her eyes met his and he nodded again.

He concentrated on the beauty of the silver lines, on the untamed, uninhibited joy he could feel. That must be worth it.

At the edge of his vision he saw people entering the room. He heard mum cry in alarm, Pansy calling out his name.

His godmother was the first to reach him. She looked in alarm at him, at the stone, the sword, Prudy.

“Colin?”

He tried to answer, but his voice failed him. He knew he was about to lose consciousness.

“It’s not enough.” He whispered with what felt as if it was his last breath.

Pansy laid her hand on his. Her voice was soft and tender. “It will be.”

With the last flutter of his consciousness, he heard his godmother shout.

“ _Praeda_ ”.

The flow increased and Colin closed his eyes, suddenly free of pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now we have reached the point, where Draco arrives. Hope you won't hate me for another cliffhanger....


	105. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The undoing of the elves' curse results in fire at the Manor and Draco arrives at the right time....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter overlaps with the last two chapters and is from Hermione's PoV.

The apparition crack resonated in the air, and Hermione’s hand that had tried to snatch at Colin went through thin air. She called his name, but in vain. He had already left.

“What’s his plan? What is he going to do?” She pulled at her curls in despair.

She rounded on the elves that had held them prisoner. “What did Prudy tell you?”

They still grovelled before Rina and Hermione felt a strange mixture of anger, pity and disgust. They had lost the strange smudgy look that had come with their almost-transition, but they were a far cry from Prudy or Tatki. They reminded her of Winky, the unhappy house-elf that had known nothing but service and submission.

“Does mistress allow answering?”. One of the elves was about to touch Rina’s knees but shied away from her when she looked down on him.

Rina stared at them as if she had never seen elves before and moved her head in the slightest of nods.

“Prudy said, wait, hope, trust. Us not want.” The elf started to punish itself and soon other elves imitated him.

Rina shied from them appalled. She looked around and her questioning eyes found Hermione’s.

“Why are you doing that?” The voice that had oozed the confidence of the Manor’s mistress was gone. Hermione saw Rina’s eyes glitter.

“Us disobedient bad elves. Mistress knows best. Mistress cares. Elves should not have tried to break free. Elves too stupid to care for themselves.”

He reached out again to touch Rina, his face turned to her almost as if he worshipped her. Hermione’s heart clenched at the anxious repugnance in her daughter’s eyes.

“Oh Merlin,” Rina whispered.

“Rina, make them stop, they’re hurting themselves.” Lizzie was in tears.

Rina opened her mouth, but Hermione cried. “Don’t, Rina! Every command will tighten the curse again.”

Rina shuddered. “What did I do?”

“We need to get to Colin and Prudy.” Hermione felt an urgency that threatened to choke her. “Rina, can you undo the wards here.”

Rina shook herself and waved her wand.

Hermione fingered her necklace. “I’ll apparate to Colin’s signature again. That saves time.”

Her fingers trembled when she touched the stone was Colin’s. She almost didn’t catch its faint beat. And her mind whirled wildly trying to push away the fear of what that might mean.

Pansy sprinted to her side and they went together.

When her feet touched the ground, she froze. She knew this room. She shook violently as she was catapulted back in time, to the day, when she had feared losing her life to Bellatrix’ wand. She barely registered that Colin had sunk down in a corner, that he had shoved the sword of Gryffindor up to the hilt into a stone.

She blinked.

She blinked again.

Pansy had run to Colin and had lowered herself at his side. Hermione saw a silvery web that sprung from where the sword had sunk into the stone. She saw a silver rivulet that connected Colin to the stone. The stone seemed to absorb it. Colin’s face was white. He seemed to be in pain.

Pansy readied her wand. “ _Praeda_ ,” she shouted, pointing at Colin. The silver rivulet flared and became a steady flow and Prudy kept weaving the glaring strand from the flow into the web. Pansy sighed. Her knees wobbled.

Neville, Ginny and the other children burst into the room, followed by Narcissa and Rina.

“We have to sustain the flow of magic,” Hermione shouted.

Neville did not hesitate. “ _Praeda_.”

He was followed quickly by Narcissa, Ginny and Rina, and Hermione felt as if she was hit by the heat of their combined magic. She added her own, and the silvery web in the stone shone as if stars had descended from the sky to collect light to create a new constellation. Colin’s eyes had closed, and his face was bathed in the shining light. Prudy’s face glistened with sweat, but she still wove the silver white-hot strands.

Hermione could feel her own strength leaving her and was buckled under by the sheer force of the magical pull. She saw James Potter and Richard Weasley raise their wands as well and wanted to scream at them, but no sound came out.

She felt hot tears on her cheeks when Lizzie was the last to add her magic. With determination she waved her wand again, collecting the magic on herself. She wove all the strands of magic to a single flow that fed the web, dimmer than before but steady, not too rapid.

The sheer force of the magical stream threatened to pull her under. She feared it would all stream through them and vanish. Just before the strength of the magical wave burst away her tiny resistance, she felt a beat in the ground. The ley lines. Each house of the old magical families was built on ley lines. She leaned into the beat in the ground, and directed this new flow of the magic. She built a dam that helped contain the overwhelming force of all their combined magic, so that they would not be washed away. Still, she felt her strength vane at an alarming speed.

Hermione heard the echo of little feet on the floor of the room, and she saw the Malfoy elves filing into the room, running to Prudy. She was on her knees herself and everything was a blur of light and shadow.

Prudy reached out to the silvery strands, stretching her hand, and slowly drew it all into her fist. The elves hustled around her and with a high wail Prudy raised her fist and released everything she had drawn. A rain of glittering droplets descended on the elves.

Then they were gone. Colin’s hand that had held on to Prudy’s fell down and his body shuddered. A sudden rush of heat made Hermione waver in her stance. Everything went black.

***

Something buzzed at her side, insisting that she woke up. She groaned and opened her eyes. She felt warmth, which was a relief after the cold that had crept into her bones when they had been cornered by the rogues. She felt like she could float, and she was slightly dizzy. Her nose picked up a strange scent. She thought of barbecues in their small garden. Potatoes pushed into glowing embers.

She gasped, startled and sat up. That was a mistake. Smoke filled her lungs. She coughed.

She let herself fall on the floor again. She grabbed her wand. Her voice was raspy and would not form the words. So, she thought about the water summoning spell instead, trying to conjure non-verbally but her wand sputtered, and only a few drops came out.

She almost fainted again from the exertion.

She crawled, taking care to breathe close to the floor. Lizzie lay next to her and Hermione touched her. Her daughter opened her eyes and Hermione turned her around.

She pointed at where the door to the terrace had to be. Sun rays from outside lit up the billowing smoke through the glass doors. It looked like a deadly waltz.

“Crawl, don’t stand.” She showed her how to do it. Lizzie scuttled towards the door.

The door to the terrace burst open. The sudden influx of air that drove the smoke out made it look like a figure was conjured. Hermione could hear the fire begin to roar with the additional air. But for a blessed moment she could breathe.

There was a figure in the doorframe, the smoke streaming past him. He wore something around the head, and it took her a moment to understand. Lizzie had reached the door and threw herself at him.

“Out, out,” he shouted, his voice muffled through what must be a piece of cloth.

He picked Lizzie up and with two long strides and a push he moved her outside.

“Run”, she heard him shout.

Hermione had reached Ginny, and shook her, but she just sighed. James was at her other side and tried to get up.

Hermione gestured wildly at him to stay down, pointing at the smoke, and James understood. He went on all fours, shoved his hands around his mother’s torso and began to pull. Richard had reached Ginny’s legs.

Hermione tried to crawl forward to reach Narcissa, but she was suddenly picked up by strong hands. She let herself fall into Draco’s arms and be carried outside. She was so tired. Draco let her down on the grass.

“Don’t you dare move, Granger,” he told her.

“Rina,” she whispered. Tears were leaking out of her eyes. “Colin, your mother, Nev, Pansy.”

“I’ll fetch them all. You just stay here and be safe.”

She saw him run to the van, calling “ _Aguamenti_ ”, as if he could do magic. This made no sense to her at all. She fought nausea.

Draco had come out of the house again, Rina in his arms. He let her drop at Hermione’s side and ran again. Lizzie threw herself between them, touching and hugging her sister. Rina sighed, but her eyes remained closed.

“Don’t you dare go into the house again. You cannot charm a waterspell big enough to quench such a fire. You stay outside with your mother and aunt.” he shouted angrily. Hermione raised her head and saw that he gestured wildly at James and Richard before he stopped at the van, called “ _Aquamenti_ ” and entered the house again.

Narcissa was next. Her eyes fluttered when Draco put her down.

“You weigh nothing, mother,” Draco told her, before he ran off again.

Colin was still unconscious and deathly pale, when Draco laid him down. His hand remained closed in a deadly grip around the hilt of that blasted sword.

Pansy’s cheeks, in contrast, were burning red, and she shuddered and whimpered when her body touched the ground.

When Draco ran again, calling for the watering spell, her brain suddenly clicked. Meg. Meg was here and was spraying Draco with water.

Neville was last. Draco carried him over his shoulders, buckling under the other man’s weight. A sudden burst of flames made their figures stand out black against the orange and red of the flames that greedily devoured the Manor.

Hermione raised on her elbow. She could feel the heat of the fire on her face, but she was far enough from the house, that the air felt fresh and was a balm to her burning chest. The grass under her hands felt comforting. She counted everybody. Rina, Colin, Lizzie, her mother-in-law, Pansy, Neville, Ginny and the disaster twins. Somehow, they had all made it. She looked for signs of life. She heard groans and sighs, coughing. Eyes fluttered open. She counted again, just to be sure.

Draco let Neville slide from his shoulders, just at Pansy’s side. Draco looked funny, with his blond hair vanished under the navy blue t-shirt and his naked shoulders barely standing out against his white undershirt. And he was panting heavily and glistened with sweat.

Hermione wanted to kiss him. Badly. She began to giggle. And then she coughed.

Draco came over and held her, and when the coughing had subsided, she breathed in his smell and smiled into his naked shoulder.

“Malfoy, you look undignified,” she told him. “You should don your shirt again.”

He raised his head, that he had buried into her hair.

“I love you too, Hermione.” His eyes caressed her. “Care to tell me what happened here? Why are you all here and why do I not feel the cut out? And why does Colin hold the bloody sword of Gryffindor?”

“I revoked the Cut out.” Rina’s voice sounded as raspy as Hermione’s. But her voice had gained a new timbre, just the slightest hint of authority, of power. Hermione wondered if it was the magic of the Manor and the grounds or if Rina had just become older and more mature.

Draco had noticed it as well. “So, you’re the Lady now. How?”, he asked.

“I was sired before you were cut out, dad. I took it.” She grimaced. “It was not easy. Your pureblood ancestors were all bastards. They tried to trick me by showing me only the bad things.”

She pointed at the still burning house. “Could I order it to stop burning?”

“It’s worth a try.” Hermione shrugged.

Draco stood and went to the van, putting on his very wet and stained shirt on the way, while Rina tried to order the Manor to stop burning. The flames lessened, but it would take some time for the fire to die down.

Meg and Robert climbed out of the van and Robert ran immediately to Hermione and showed her a balloon that was shimmering in rainbow hues, but Meg shuffled her feet.

“What’s up?” Hermione asked.

“Dad told me to stay at home and look after Robert, and then I smuggled us into the van.”

“Wow!” Rina said. “And you still carry your head on your shoulders?”

“There was no time.” Draco shrugged. “And Meg confunded the officer, who had stopped me for speeding on the motorway.”

He laughed. “I’m still torn between being mad and proud. That confundus was expertly aimed.”

Narcissa opened her eyes with a sigh.

“Draco”, she whispered. Her eyes were full of tears.

“Hello mother,” he went to his knees at her side and took her hand in his and for a long moment they just looked at each other. Hermione felt like she intruded on a moment of intense privacy.

Her eyes found her own son who still hadn’t woken up. She tried to imagine not seeing Colin for almost twenty years. The thought alone let her heart clench.

“You look awfully thin,” she heard Draco say. “Do you eat enough?”

Narcissa sobbed and shook her head. He wrapped his arms around her, and Hermione could see how tight Narcissa’s hands gripped Draco’s shoulders.

“You on the other hand.” She smiled at him. “The photos did not do you any justice. You look well, happy.”

Draco shot a look at the Potters who had no qualms about hugging intensely. He quickly wiped his eyes.

“Mother,” he said. “These are Meg and Robert. I believe you’ve already made the acquaintance of my other children? Even if circumstances were apparently not suitable for proper introduction?”

Meg still shuffled her feet, shyer than usual. Robert had heard his name and edged closer, his balloon in hand.

“Robert, this is your other grandmother. Say hello to grandmadam. I bet she’s glad to meet you all.”

Robert showed his broad grin with his shiny little baby teeth. “Grandmadam.”

“Hello Robert,” she smiled in return. “I was given to understand that you invented grandmadam. I like that.”

He shoved the balloon into her hands. “Balloon.”

Narcissa began to cry in earnest and held on to the balloon. Hermione hoped it would not burst.

Slowly, the others came out of it. Pansy had it the worst. She was shivering despite the warmth as if she were close to catching a fever and Neville held her fast to warm her.

Colin had no colour in his cheeks. When he tried to stand, his knees wobbled, and he crawled to her and let himself fall into her arms. Hermione held on to him, his regular breaths were a balm to her soul.

They all held on to each other, as if their lives depended on it.

“Someone has to tell me what happened.” Draco had sat down in the grass. “I’ve always wanted to listen to the latest Gryffindor adventures while being warmed by the embers of my ancestral home.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. Rina’s order had taken effect and the fire was dying down.

Narcissa waved at the house. “I’m glad. I’ve come to hate the Manor so much.”

“I guess it all began with my bloody brother George,” Ginny’s eyes flashed.

They took turns and slowly the pieces fell together. At one point, Draco asked Hermione if she would bail him out of prison if he committed arson on Weasley’s wizarding wheezes. Ginny and Neville objected, but only because they wanted to be first.

“I don’t understand that, Neville,” Hermione wanted to know. “If you knew about this stupid trial of courage, why didn’t you make sure that Colin heard about it.”

“It’s …” Neville flushed. “I manage classes you know, but anytime I have to address too many people they all become a blur. How could I know that Colin was in the library?”

“Why would you assume, Colin was anywhere but the library, Uncle Neville,” James asked.

“Where I found the Phoenix Potion notes,” Colin remarked and shook his head at James.

Hermione pressed Draco’s hand when he told them about his drive to the Manor. That must have been a nightmare.

Draco gestured at the van. “Before we leave again, I have to change the tire. Must have happened while I drove through all these bushes.”

Indeed, the right front tire had obviously lost air.

Finally, it was her turn and she told how she had tried to direct the flows from the _praeda_ spells, how she had connected herself to the ley lines and how the elves had vanished.

“I had told my ancestors and the house, that they’d better accept you,” Rina told her.

“I think you prevented us from losing our magic,” Pansy whispered.

“To me you all look like you overused.” Draco scoffed.

“Colin, how many wizards and witches took part in the cursing of the elves? Did you see that, when you listened in to the elves?” Hermione asked her son.

“I think they were nine.”

“Nine.” Draco frowned.

His eyes met hers. Hermione nodded. “That we were nine today…. That was no happenstance.”

Draco nodded grimly.

“I wonder what happened to the elves.” Lizzie had been silent almost the entire time. She had only told Hermione that she had known that mum would come and rescue her. Her utter trust made Hermione tear up.

“They probably enjoy their freedom.” Richard said. When everyone looked at him, he blushed. “I would do that. If I were set free after years and years, I would throw the biggest party in the world.”

“There certainly won’t be a Gryffindor party today. I can tell you that much.” Neville growled.

Draco shook his head. “What do we learn from this? Never believe a Gryffindor, if they tell you that there shouldn’t be any trouble for the next twenty years.”

He looked straight at her.

“I think I’ve never been that frightened in my entire life.” James said. “It is certainly much more fun hearing about adventures than living them.” He shuddered as if he were suddenly cold.

Hermione blinked at him. She was tempted to laugh. Hearing that out of the mouth of a boy who looked so much like Harry was absurd.

“That must be the first sensible thing you’ve ever said in your entire life, James.” Colin shook his head.

They all laughed, and James even chimed in. The laughter warmed Hermione. She looked at the house and saw that the fire had completely died down. She felt colder than the warm summer day warranted. Maybe she was getting feverish as well, just like Pansy.

Draco had stopped laughing and looked at her with sudden alarm.

“So, you called me to get you out of the wards with the magic proof van. Rina went on her own.” He raised his fingers and ticked his points off. “Astoria was supposed to alert the auror department, and Dudley was supposed to call Potter on the phone.”

“That is how long ago. Three hours? Four?”

He frowned and pointed at Ginny. “So, where is the cavalry? Why is Potter not here to save his wife and all the rest in his typical man-who-lived-twice style?”

Ginny stared at Draco, her mirth had evaporated. For a long laden moment, nobody said anything. The cold crept again into Hermione’s bones.

“He wanted to destroy the dementors’ anchor in Azkaban. Something must have gone awry.” Ginny bit her lip. ”I’ll send my _patronus_ to investigate.”

She gripped her wand and waved it, but it only produced a few silver sparks.

“Ginny, don’t”, Hermione cautioned her. “Overuse, remember? None of us should do any magic in the next fortnight or so.”

She pointed at Pansy. “Pansy even longer by the look of it.”

The fever must have gotten her as well. She shuddered again. “Three weeks most likely.”

“The cavalry has arrived.” Narcissa stared at the sky behind Hermione.

Her voice held no relief though. “It’s just the wrong side.”

They all turned, and Hermione heard the children cry out in anguish.

Just above the small grove, where the children had chanced upon the rogues, hung something that looked like a dark cloud. She squinted.

Not a cloud. Dementors. Hundreds of them. Certainly, more than the dozen rogue elves.

“They want to be free as well,” Colin whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're going to hate me for that cliffhanger....


	106. Emergency Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is back at Grimmauld after his visit to Azkaban, where he hears dire news.

“Teddy, you really should stop that.” His godson had done it again and looking at him was like looking into a mirror, minus the glasses and plus a very concerned look. Teddy blushed and his hair turned purple again.

Harry was close to tears with exhaustion. He hadn’t even been able to hold on to the sword of Gryffindor. Not that he had needed it any longer, but it had just vanished from his hands and at that moment his knees had given way. He had assured his aurors that he had not fainted, but Teddy had side-alonged him to Grimmauld and since then had positively fussed over him. Now they sat in the living room and Harry slowly drank the cocoa Teddy had made for him. The taste of chocolate did lift his mood.

Kreacher was nowhere to be seen. Harry silently cursed the fact that Ginny had given him a free day. He could use one of Kreacher’s sandwiches now.

Teddy’s hair might have turned to purple again, but the concerned look was still prominent on his face. Harry tried to contain his sigh.

“I am o.k., Teddy, really.”

“You don’t look o.k., Uncle Harry. You haven’t looked o.k. for weeks, to be honest.”

“That is because I haven’t been o.k. for weeks.” Harry blurted out.

“So, you’re not o.k. then. Did that bastard Sloane hex you when you arrested him?”. Teddy looked ready to apparate back to Azkaban and pummel the man.

Harry rubbed his eyes. “I’d just like something to eat.”

He called for Kreacher again but got no answer. He tried to summon enough energy to simply stand up and walk to the kitchen.

Teddy seemed to guess his intention and jumped up, so Harry let himself sink deeper into the sofa again, in gratitude.

He looked at his watch. Where was Ginny? The tea with Hermione had been an early tea, and it was early evening now. Apparently, the meeting was a success. Harry stamped on the jealousy that raised its ugly head in his guts before he had even decided who he was jealous of.

Teddy came back with several sandwiches and Harry grabbed at them, gratefully digging in.

“Is this about the memory vial, Uncle Harry?”

Harry blinked.

“The fact that you’re not o.k.”

Harry’s thoughts began to whirl. “The memory vial?”

Teddy rolled his eyes. “You do remember, Uncle Harry, that you told me to find out who stole that vial.”

Harry nodded. His heart sank.

“Dawlish took it, but why? What was in it? And why was a memory about a minor theft so important? It must be important, or you wouldn’t worry about it so much.”

Harry could not help himself. He laughed. Teddy obviously lacked the ability to relate to a criminal mind.

Teddy’s eyes were still locked on Harry, his mien puzzled.

Harry inhaled deeply. “You’re a good auror, Teddy. Think beyond the inhibition of your preconceived ideas. Don’t shy from the worst. Remember, ‘he would never do that’ is not a valid argument.”

Teddy frowned. “Uncle Harry?”

Harry could see the exact moment when Teddy understood, when his face fell, when doubt turned to disbelief, and then to shock. His heart clenched. Teddy probably would never mimic Harry again.

“That vial held Snape’s memories? And Dawlish gave them to Sloane?”

Harry nodded.

“But that would mean you suppressed evidence.”

Harry nodded again.

“Uncle Harry, you would never….”

Harry arched an eyebrow at him.

Teddy let out his breath in a huff. “But why?”

“I found the memories when I was still a hundred percent convinced that Malfoy had drugged Hermione with _amortentia_.”

He studied his nails. “Which is an explanation, not an excuse.”

“But you always told us how important it is to be meticulous about evidence.” Teddy protested.

Harry huffed. “Because I know how tempting it is.”

He set down his cocoa cup, aligning the cup to the saucer. “I was tempted. So often. It was always a struggle. It has always been Pansy who held me back.”

He looked above Teddy’s head at the photos on the mantelpiece, the photos of Ginny and the children. 

“ _It’s just one of your hunches, Harry_.” He imitated Pansy’s voice. “ _We can’t arrest them on one of your hunches. We have to get the evidence_. _Or what are you going to tell the judge, Harry: 'we have no evidence your honour, but my gut told me he was guilty'._

His eyes found Teddy’s face again. Teddy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His hand with one of the sandwiches, half-eaten, was frozen in mid-air.

“My hunch about Malfoy…” Harry sighed. “It was completely off. And I should have realised. And I held back evidence, because I was so sure, I was right.”

“Is that why you almost never send us out alone?” Teddy whispered.

Harry nodded. He felt oddly relieved. Teddy let his hand sink on his knee, still holding on to the sandwich.

“So, you basically taught us all these things and you yourself….” He stared at his sandwich, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“It’s o.k. to name this for what it is, Teddy. Your godfather is a hypocrite.”

Teddy shook his head. “I’m not sure. That would imply that you did it all the time.”

He looked up again. “Does Ginny know?”

Harry felt tears pricking at his eyes. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

Teddy stood up and began to pace. If the experience with telling Pansy was anything to go by, Teddy probably would leave soon, maybe bang the door.

Harry waited for the blow to fall. The silence pressed hard on him. Teddy looked out of the window, his face crumpled in a frown.

He did not expect what came next.

“Why are Dudley and Astoria Greengrass in front of Grimmauld?”

“What?”

Teddy pointed. “They look somewhat agitated.”

A rush of fear washed through Harry’s veins. He jumped up and ran to the front door, throwing open the door.

“Harry, thank God,” Dudley said. “Why don’t you answer your phone? I’ve called a million times.”

Professor Greengrass sagged in relief. “I’ve tried to reach you for hours. The floo in the auror department is closed. And Professor Flitwick sent a _patronus_. Did you not get that?”

Their high-pitched voices told Harry it was urgent.

“What is up?” He dreaded the answer. Suddenly, it was alarming that Ginny had not returned.

He ushered them in, and Dudley and Professor Greengrass talked over each other, but Harry was used to witnesses being upset and out of it.

“Gryffindor children at Malfoy Manor?” Teddy’s voice was toppling over. “They still have that bloody trial of courage? Ginny? Pansy? Why didn’t they send a _patronus_? And Neville went after them and hasn’t returned?”

“Merlin, when did that happen?” Harry felt as if he had been drenched in sweat within the span of a minute.

“Maybe three hours ago?”

There was no time to wonder why Professor Greengrass had found the floo closed, why Flitwick’s _patronus_ had not arrived, no time to check why Dudley’s calls had not reached Harry.

“Thanks Dudley. Teddy, we go there now.”

“I’ll floo back to Hogwarts and call for reinforcement,” Professor Greengrass said. Her face was determined.

Harry pressed the pot with floo powder in her hand. “Call for as many as you can.”

He felt queasy when he conjured his multiple stags, but his fear prevented him from giving in to his fatigue. He wondered what to say.

“Unknown danger to children, possibly rogue elves and curses. To Malfoy Manor. Now.”

“Side-along me, Teddy. I need to spare some of my energy.” He took his godson’s hand and Teddy did as he was told.

***

It was as if someone had turned off the sunny summer evening. The Manor and the grounds were under a dark cloud that blocked out the sun and Harry began to shiver with cold immediately after his feet touched the grass. Grass that should have been green and lush, but that looked dead and withered.

The Manor looked like a ruin. Harry adjusted his glasses. The Manor was a ruin. It looked like some enormous beast hat bitten a large chunk out of it. Harry stared at the cloud.

“Dementors.” Teddy whispered. “Why are they here?”

He had not hesitated and had been alert enough to conjure his _patronus_. His wolf stood at his side, but it was the only thing that gave of any light.

“There are people.” Teddy pointed. Harry could barely make them out in the dark. Two or maybe three people were standing before something that looked like a muggle van. The dementors attacked them but gave the van a wide berth. That was probably the only reason why they were not down yet. Harry couldn’t see a whiff of any _patronus_.

One of the figures held something that looked like a long shiny and silvery wand. The dementors seemed to avoid that as well. Another figure had blond hair. That had to be Malfoy. Harry wondered briefly why he had not dropped dead when entering the grounds. His perpetual _scutum_ must be very good. But Harry had already known that.

He did not see any red hair. Nor did he see other figures.

He tried to summon his stag and failed.

“Well, I guess we can test Baxter’s theory now. Let’s see if they are vulnerable.” Teddy looked with revulsion at the dementors.

Harry felt relief flood him when he heard apparition cracks all around them. Wizards and witches appeared and soon there was a whole herd of summoned _patronus_ animals. Ron’s fox terrier came to his side, followed by Percy’s fox. Mc Gonagall had followed his call again and her cat was as fast as any of the others. Molly, Arthur, Penelope, Bill and Fleur, Filius Flitwick, the Potions professor, some older Hogwarts students by the look of it. Even George had come. Seamus and Dean.

Harry raised his own wand and his stag appeared.

They advanced towards the Manor, slowly closing in on the dementors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last cliffhanger, I promise....


	107. Patronus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dementors close in on the Granger-Malfoy family.....

“They want to be free as well,” Colin’s whisper had a physical effect on him. It crawled over his skin and left him in goosebumps, shuddering with the sudden cold.

And he had thought seeing all his loved ones in a burning house had been bad.

Draco was catapulted back in time.

He was on the astronomy tower and felt his despair, when his disarming spell had not been blocked, when he tried to goad the old man into killing him, delaying the decision between his own life and that of his mother’s and the old man’s.

He felt his utter terror when Hermione was brought in by snatchers.

He stared at his family ring turned black.

He watched Voldemort and his death eaters approach Hogwarts, closing in, as all hope was lost.

He doubted his sanity when he was not sure if magic was real or not.

He looked into his father’s eyes as he cut him out of the family, expecting the curse to cut his life short.

He stared at a calendar counting the days that were left of the contact ban.

“It’s the dementors,” Hermione’s voice somehow pierced the darkness that had descended on him. He felt her hand pressing his for a blessed moment. Her warmth pulled him back into the present.

“Children, into the van, this is not a drill.”

His voice was toppling over. He ran to the van and threw open the side door. He snatched Lizzie and shoved her into the van, not too gently. Meg climbed into the van on her own. Rina had grabbed Robert. All their emergency drills paid off now.

“Hermione, Mother,” he shouted. “Everyone in, none of you can do a spell.”

Hermione had already ushered the boys towards the van. Their white faces stood out in the oncoming darkness. Neville carried Pansy and the Weaselette helped his mother.

Draco thought he could physically feel the cold of the dementors already reaching to steal the warmth from his body.

“What about you, dad?” Colin stared at him with wide eyes.

Draco cursed his perceptive son. “We can’t be sure, dementors cannot open doors, someone has to stay outside and fend them off.”

“Give your father your wand,” Hermione’s voice barely shook.

Draco stared.

“You will break through the _scutum_ and conjure a _patronus_ to save us all.” His bloody Gryffindor wife said it, as if it was a given.

Colin solemnly gave him the occamy core wand. “I give you free use of my wand, Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco swallowed.

“In, in,” Hermione urged their son. The cold was getting uncomfortable and the dementors were closing in. Draco tried to control his shudders.

Neville had lowered Pansy and climbed out again.

“Stay in,” Draco hissed.

Neville smiled. “You wish.”

He extended his hand and Colin gave him the sword. Draco felt a surge of gratitude.

“Get in, love,” he told Hermione, but she shook her head.

“You need me.” She took his left hand in hers.

“You bloody Gryffindors,” Draco shouted in frustration.

He looked around and saw with terror that there were already dementors at the other side of the van. The _scutum_ on the van held them back, he could hear them hissing. There was no time for arguing with his stubborn wife.

Rina also made as if to climb out again, but stopped when her gaze met Draco’s face.

“Show some Slytherin virtues.”

He let Hermione’s hand drop and shoved his hand into his pocket and grabbed the car key. He threw it to Rina, who caught it from the air.

“When it comes down to it, drive away. The tire might still hold for a little while.”

“Safe room rules.” Hermione declared, as she pushed the door of the van close.

He held on to Colin’s wand in a grip that threatened to snap it. His other hand had found Hermione’s again and he shoved her behind him just as the dark shadows attacked from their left.

Neville swung the sword and hacked off the reaching hand of one of the dementors.

Draco fully expected that to be ineffective, but the hand fell away and dissolved.

Some dementors tried to attack from above but the van was just high enough to be a shield. The sword in Neville’s hand shone with a silvery light as if of its own. There was barely light that could reflect on the blade. Between the van at their back and Neville in front of them the dementors were held at bay for now.

And yet Draco felt despair creep into his heart. His still wet shirt clung to his body and made him feel like he had suddenly been dropped into an icehouse. Hermione’s hand in his felt warm and full of life, but his other hand got colder. His arm felt limp and his thoughts whirled. He couldn’t even remember the words for the _patronus_ charm.

Katie Bell died in agony before his eyes.

He bled his life out on the tiles of a bathroom.

“Draco, please” he heard Dumbledore plead just as his killing curse hit the old man.

Voldemort killed his mother for Draco’s failures.

He heard his aunt Bellatrix cackle firing curse after curse at Hermione as he watched helplessly.

Hermione died before his eyes at the battle of Hogwarts, the vial with Phoenix Potion he was about to drop on her slipping from his fingers.

His father cursed him, and Hermione jumped in front of him and died.

Potter dragged him away from Hermione and raised his wand to cast _sectumsempra_.

He heard someone sob and at first, he did not realise that it was him.

Hermione pressed herself to his back. He wanted to turn and sink into her arms, soak all the warmth he could, shut out the terrible images that flooded his mind.

“Draco, you can do this,” she said. “We need you.”

Vaguely, Draco saw that Neville still swung the sword expertly and went back and forth restlessly to protect him and Hermione.

“I love you, Draco, our children love you. You saw your mother again. Remember how happy we are.”

Draco weighed the wand in his hand. Hermione wrapped her arms around him from behind.

“Where is Potter when you need him.” That cry of despair had burst out of him and he saw the air leaving his mouth in whisps of white fog. The air was as cold as on a winter night.

He tried to reach his magic. It had been so long, that he barely remembered the feeling of doing a spell.

Neville would at some point become tired. He had already fought and done magic for hours. The dementors would breach his defence. He would die, Hermione would die and with her the tiny sparks of life inside her. Rina might be able to bring everyone else away.

Their children would have to fend for themselves.

One of Hermione’s curls tickled his neck.

“ _Expecto patronum_.” He pressed out the words.

There was a tiny spark somewhere in his breast. Light the size of a grain of dust.

“ _Expecto patronum_.” He concentrated on the tiny spark. His head began to swim, and blinding pain settled on him. Tears sprang to his eyes.

It felt like a migraine. There was a sudden sickening blade digging into right side of his head, and he got the familiar feeling that even the tiniest of movement would cause him to double over in a mixture of nausea and pain. Neville’s sword was glaring and pierced his eyes and for a moment he was tempted to let himself fall into the darkness of the circling dementors.

Hermione, the children, his mother, his friends. He would have to claw through this. He didn’t see anything. He heard Neville shout something.

“Think about how happy we were, when Colin found your notes.” Hermione’s voice somehow reached his brain. “Use the ley lines.”

He could smell violets, a note of cinnamon under a sharp refreshing lemony overtone, and just a hint of fresh paper. He raised the wand again.

“ _Expecto patronum_.” He pushed his way through the relentless wall of his migraine, battering at it, ignoring the excruciating pain.

The backlash threw him into Hermione and to his knees. The tip of the wand began to glow in a silvery light. At first it looked as if the glow hovered, as if it were stuck, pulsing as if it wanted to escape but only did so with the speed of a snail.

There was a beat in the ground, weak, but steady. He tried to align himself to the beat and pushed again, groaning with the exertion, hot tears flowing down his cheeks.

The dam burst.

Suddenly, there was shining silver light that pushed at the darkness of the dementors. Draco’s mouth fell open when he saw what he had conjured.

A silver dragon the size of a house flew at the dementors.

Hermione sagged at his side.

Draco’s eyes cleared again, the shadow had withdrawn from his view and his mind.

Neville sank to the earth at their side, dropping the sword.

“There is Harry and the right kind of cavalry” he said.

He was right. There were many, many _patronus_ animals, driving the dementors towards his dragon. Draco thought he saw Potter’s stag.

The dementors were soon surrounded by the silvery shapes.

The dragon descended on their black forms and picked them up, one by one, closing its enormous jaws around them.

Draco watched in fascination as one after the other of the dark shades vanished. At first he did not realise it, but after the dragon had absorbed about twenty dementors, it became greyer, smaller, until it was barely visible any longer, just a dark shape with small sparks of white the size of a big dog perhaps. Draco could only see it because the daylight finally had resurfaced, and the almost black dragon stood out against the still blue summer sky.

The now small dragon attacked the last dementor that lacked an arm, and when he had opened his jaws, both vanished, _patronus_ and dementor as if none of this had ever happened. One by one the _patronus_ animals of the aurors withdrew as well.

“More than twenty years of pent up magic.” Hermione smiled at him through tears. “Love, you’re amazing. I think you might have freed them.”

“Can you do magic again?” Neville asked.

Draco looked at the wand in his hand, frightened for a moment, that the _scutum_ might have settled again.

“ _Expecto patronum_ ”

Hermione laughed at the animal that sprang out of the wand.

“A beaver, Draco, a beaver! O just look at its adorable long teeth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the last cliff hanger... We're nearing the end.
> 
> I hope that the solution of the elves-dementors situation was satisfying. I sure thought a lot about the plot and how it could all come together satisfyingly.
> 
> Thanks again to @marydri for reading in advance and thanks to my lovely readers for commenting and leaving kudos and all that. 
> 
> There will be two epilogues and that is why the chapter count has gone up again!


	108. Safe room rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children, Ginny, Pansy and Narcissa sit in the van and fear the outcome of the dementor attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today @asexualpuff made character moodboards for all the children (and made my day with these!)  
> I added them at the end of the chapter. I think it is fitting for this chapter.  
> So, go visit her tumblr and give her moodboards some love!

It was so cold that their breath misted before their mouths and before long the windows of the van were completely blind. Pretty icy flowers covered them. Rina could barely make out the faces of her companions. The darkness pressed on them, and silence settled, interrupted only by heavy breathing. Rina could feel her jaw clench and balled her hands into fists. The car key almost cut into her palm. She felt overwhelmed with the responsibility. She prayed that she would not have to drive the van. On a flat tire.

Aunt Pansy was shivering, and Lizzie angled for the cover that they kept for picnics in the back of the car and tugged her in.

“Huddle close to her, Lizzie, Colin,” Rina told them. “We have to keep her warm.” She refused to think about the fact that this task might prove to be futile.

The only light was an erratic white flickering light from outside where Uncle Neville, mom and dad stood. It did nothing to reassure Rina. She wondered if it was the sword of Gryffindor.

“Lumos”. Meg’s wand began to shine. It was no warm light and that might have been the reason why all their faces looked so pale. It felt better though to be able to make them all out.

James and Richard were held by Ginny Potter, Robert sat on Grandmadam’s lap and Colin and Lizzie had done as Rina had ordered and rubbed the shivering Pansy.

“Well, done, Meg,” Rina told her.

In the light of Meg’s wand, she studied the car keys and pressed the button that would close all the doors. The low thud seemed to echo in her head as if a bell were rung.

“So, the _scutum_ on the car does not prevent you from doing magic inside the car.” Colin mused. “Interesting.”

“I disillusioned myself and Robert on the way here. And I confunded the police officer who had stopped us. Through the open window.”

Leave it to Colin and Meg to discuss magical theory in the middle of a crisis.

Rina shook her head. “You only have your wand for, what, a day? And you did a _confundus_?”

“I was so frightened,” Meg confessed. “I had to do something. Dad called me poppet. Poppet! And he left the house, before another adult was there. And then he threw up into the gully beside the van.”

“Poppet! That is even worse than ‘dear’” Lizzie said.

An awkward tittering followed Lizzie’s comment.

“I can relate to throwing up,” Richard shuddered. “I’m feeling very, very queasy right now.”

“Don’t you dare throw up in our van,” Colin told him.

“Why is dad not coming?” James Potter’s voice sounded as if he were about to start crying. Not that Rina could fault him. She did wish the Head Auror would arrive, and she didn’t particularly like the man.

Ginny Potter stroked James’ hair. “I am sure, there is a perfectly sound reason why he was delayed.”

Her eyes met Rina’s and Rina saw, that she was not as certain as she tried to sound.

“I might have an explanation for that,” Grandmadam said.

“Please, do tell.” They would have to find a way to distract the children. Rina pleaded silently with her grandmother.

“After my husband died and I had trouble with the elves, because I could neither free them nor order them, Prudy came several times and tried to make them come to their senses. They would not listen to her. In the end she told me I had to ward them in before they became subject to the transition.”

She shuddered.

“When Colin found out about the elves’ curse, Prudy came again and this time she had taken Kreacher with her. But the elves had already gone far beyond any reasoning. Well, you saw them. Kreacher and Prudy argued what could be done about them and about all the dementors. They differed and the discussion got very heated. There was one thing they did agree on though. That Harry Potter should not be allowed to mess up the undoing of the Elves’ curse again.”

“My dad messed up the undoing of the Elves’ curse?” James asked.

“Merlin, James, do you ever listen in class? Remember the day I brought Topsy? Your father tricked my grandfather into freeing Dobby and the elves had to start all over again.”

James’ pale face suddenly gained a burning colour.

“So, the elves probably prevented Harry from receiving any of the emergency messages.” Ginny Potter closed her eyes. “At the very least I can have hope, that Harry is not somewhere on the bottom of the sea around Azkaban.”

So, Ginny Potter was certainly not as sanguine as she pretended to be.

“If he destroyed the dementor’s anchor in Azkaban as he planned, that might even be the reason why they are here now.” She groaned.

“I think they came to the place, where the elves were set free on purpose,” Colin said.

“Maybe Uncle Harry gets the messages now, that the elves are free.” Richard said. He sounded hopeful.

Again, Ginny Potter’s eyes flickered, and Rina saw her own doubt reflected in them.

“Dad will manage.” Lizzie sounded unfazed. “You’ll see.”

Rina bit her lip. Conjuring a _patronus_ was exceptionally difficult. It had taken her almost half a year to learn it. Admittedly, Dawlish had not been the best of teachers.

Grandmadam reached out and pressed Lizzie’s shoulders. “I am sure he’ll do that. After all, I managed as well, for the first time today, and just because I was very desperate.”

Lizzie looked at her in awe. “Really? That swan looked perfect.”

Grandmadam smiled. “Thank you. I was thinking about my hope to see my grandchildren and really have time with them, not just on the phone.”

Rina peered into her face. If she had not seen her grandmother’s face in her visions in the manor, she might not have spotted it. Narcissa had lied. That had not been her first time to conjure a _patronus_.

“Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, children?” Her voice sounded perfectly calm, as if they were not unable to do any magic sitting tightly in a van that barely held them all and all their hope was that either dad could manage to break through his _scutum_ or that Harry bloody Potter would make one of his last minute appearances.

“Or we could ask you!” Meg had become infected by the hope that suddenly seemed to flood all the children.

“Do that.”

“Where did dad learn to make the Face? It is you or was it our grandfather?” Lizzie asked.

“The Face?”

“This one.” Rina played along. She did her best to look haughty and posh. “Dad’s ‘how dare you breathe the same air as me, you peasant’ face. The one he reserves for the most annoying customers.”

The younger children giggled.

Even Colin seemed to relax. “Yes, that one. It’s a variant of ‘You **are** speaking with the manager, you twat’.”

Grandmadam smiled. “Guilty as charged.”

“And where did he learn the ‘Child, I don’t know if I should throttle you or hug you’ face?” Colin asked.

“That is a universal face every parent learns,” Ginny Potter chimed in.

“Dad gave me that face when he discovered I had smuggled Robert and me into the van.”

“Boom,” Robert shouted, making an explosion motion with his hands.

“Where does that come from?” Rina was genuinely curious and for a moment distracted from the darkness around them.

“I destroyed the gates to the grounds, when we arrived.” Meg admitted.

Aunt Pansy groaned. “Well, we know what Robert will say for the next few weeks then.”

Rina looked at her. She looked feverish, but she was alert. In her eyes she saw the same determination as in her grandmother’s face. Don’t let the children see her fear.

Rina nodded at her. If they were all to die, it would do no good to have the children frightened in advance.

“Did dad really earn his place in the Slytherin team just because he won the try outs?” Meg wanted to know. “Or did grandfather buy him a place in the team?”

“That is an excellent question, I would be interested as well.” Ginny Potter leaned forward.

“I don’t know if I even want the answer,” Rina said. “Dad and mum might run out of subjects to argue over.”

“Alas, I can’t answer that. You would have to ask the then captain of the Slytherin team. Only he knows if he read the letter with my husband’s generous offer of new brooms before or after the try outs.”

“I wouldn’t recommend contacting Marcus Flint on any subject.” Aunt Pansy said, which earned her a fervent nod by Ginny Potter.

“We Harpies really dodged a bludger, when Flint did not become our manager five years ago.”

Lizzie and Meg soon became quite animated with all the questions, and they wanted to know everything, if there really were peacocks in the park of the Manor, if grandmadam had attended any balls in her youth, who had been the DADA teachers in grandmadam’s time at Hogwarts.

Grandmadam answered every question patiently, and no flicker gave her fear away. She also bounced Robert on her knee and began to throw the balloon back and forth.

Colin began to fidget, trying to angle himself away from Pansy and to peer out through the windows of the van. Rina laid a hand on his arm and pressed it. When he looked at her, she shook her head, silently pleading with him not to frighten their younger siblings by bringing their dire situation to their attention again.

His lower lip trembled, when he understood, but he nodded.

There was still just a tiny white flicker outside in a sea of vast darkness.

“Why does your father dislike Ricky?” Richard’s voice suddenly cut through the lively conversation of Meg, Lizzie and grandmadam.

“What?” Colin’s head shot up.

“He said that, when your mother called him. That he had seen my father with his new girlfriend.”

“At least they apparently didn’t punch each other this time.” Aunt Pansy grimaced. “So, Ron’s new girlfriend is named Ricky, then?”

“Eurydice” Ginny Potter smiled. “And she’s a muggle.” Only a strained muscle around her eyes gave her fear away.

“You should have seen Ron introducing her to us. He had so much fun, when everybody assumed, she was a witch because of her name.”

“I think, she was fun. Much more fun than Lucretia.” Richard insisted.

“Better than Lucretia is such a low bar. Even Luna did not like Lucretia.” Pansy joked.

“Are you telling me, that there actually is a person, who does not get along with Luna Zabini?” Grandmadam pretended to be shocked.

“Lucretia was the worst,” Richard said with conviction. “Even my mother bitched about her and she usually doesn’t say anything against dad’s girlfriends.”

Ginny Potter sighed. “It’s a matter of perspective, Richard. Remember that Ricky told us how she fretted about her cousin’s and best friend’s wedding and that she wanted everything to be perfect?”

“I can well imagine, that organising every detail, rescheduling, cancelling and readjusting menu choices can be a pain in the ass to the person who does the catering for the wedding.”

Rina snorted. “She wrote an email to dad on Christmas Eve, on Christmas Eve!”

“It’s highly unlikely our dads will go on a pub tour with their significant others any time soon, Richard. As long as you don’t let Ms. Jensen meddle with your own wedding, you should be fine.” Colin’s face gave nothing away.

“Or you could show me how you do the ‘Colin face’, just in case.” The corners of Richard’s mouth quirked upwards.

“Oh, you mean, that one?” Lizzie arched her left eyebrow minimally and pursed her lips ever so slightly. It was surprisingly accurate.

Colin frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s your ‘Nobody should be that stupid’ face, when you really try to refrain from saying anything.” Rina explained to him and imitated the ‘Colin face’. His look was worth it.

Colin looked at her askance. “That’s rich coming from you. And you didn’t do my face. You did your own ‘I will not roll my eyes’ face.”

Meg giggled, and Rina opened her mouth to retaliate, her fear momentarily forgotten, when the van was suddenly filled with white silvery light.

“Oh, Merlin,” Ginny Potter breathed. Suddenly the tension that had been hidden in their collective effort to distract the younger children returned with a vengeance. Rina balled her hands into fists again and this time the car key tore her palm open.

“Dad made it,” Lizzie shouted.

“Boom”, Robert said, which made Colin laugh for a moment, but he stopped when he looked at Rina.

Rina’s fear had her in a firm grip. She wondered whose _patronus_ gave off the light.

The silverly light dimmed slowly and blood rushed through Rina’s veins at an alarming speed.

Slowly the silvery light gave way to what appeared to be normal daylight of a summer evening. Rina swallowed. The darkness was gone, but so was the silvery light. She wondered what it meant. The icy flowers on the windows of the van slowly dissolved, but it was still impossible to see through them.

Her heart beat fast and hard in her chest when she heard someone knock at the side door of the van.

“You can open, now!” Was that Uncle Neville’s voice?

Richard made a grab for the doorknob, but Rina clamped down on his hand.

“Safe room rules,” she barked out.

“Rina, it’s me, mum.” It sounded like mum’s voice.

“Answer the questions,” Rina shouted. She felt a drop of blood fall from her hand that held the key.

“Why am I called Rina?”

“That was a miscommunication between your dad and me. Your dad thought Rina was short for Irene, which means ‘peace’ while I wanted to honour the man who saved dad’s life. I just didn’t think that Severina would be a good name.”

“And Colin?”

“Because FitzWilliam would be child abuse. So, we named him after the actor and not the character.” That was dad’s voice.

“Lizzie?”

“Lizzie Bennet.”

“What about Robert and Meg?”

“That had been Monica’s and Wendell’s name before your mother obliviated them.”

Rina’s hand trembled when she pressed the car key. Richard waited for her to nod before he opened the door.

Mum and dad stood there, they really stood there, safe and sound and smiling. Rina began to cry with relief, her vision swam.

She heard Robert laugh in delight.

“Beaver,” he shouted. “Dad has a beaver.”

Leave it to Robert. This day would go down into family history as the day Robert spoke his first full sentence.

**Character moodboard for Rina**

**Character moodboard for Colin**

**Character moodboard for Lizzie**

**Character moodboard for Meg**

**Character moodboard for Robert**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we finally learn why the children got their names!


	109. Sorting out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the dementor attack some things need to be sorted out.

Harry’s knees barely managed to remain upright. If he would never raise a wand again it would be too early. With all the dementors gone, the evening sun suddenly had the strength to warm him again.

The golden sun and the blue daylight flooded his heart with a sudden wave of hope. With all the dementors and Neville, Hermione and Malfoy in the thick of it, there had been no chance to ask if his family was in the van, the three had protected so fiercely, nor why they even would be in the van, why nobody had cast a _patronus_ , until that huge dragon had appeared.

“They’ll be o.k.” Ron’s voice barely registered with him.

Hermione opened the door of the van. There were several people inside and so many children. Was there a glimpse of red hair? Harry’s hackles raised just by imagining what might have happened.

His feet were frozen to the ground as if the dementors were still near. His heart thudded in his chest. If he were to check, he might see the worst.

Hermione’s smallest was the first to run out. He held on to a balloon, a sight that gave Harry a sudden pang.

“Dad has a beaver,” he shouted.

Indeed, there was a silvery beaver and little Robert ran towards it.

“Play with me, beaver!” he shouted. “Look, I have a balloon. A balloon!”

It took Harry a moment before he realised that the beaver had to be Malfoy’s _patronus_.

“Did he just talk in sentences?” Malfoy looked dazed. But he waved the wand he held, and the beaver began to beat at the balloon with his tail, and the balloon slowly floated between little Robert and the shining beaver.

Malfoy held a wand. He held a wand. Harry stared.

Rina climbed out of the van, tears on her cheeks. Richard came after her and then Colin. They looked slightly bedazzled.

“Robert really has his own timing!” Colin shook his head. “How dare he steal the scene by finally talking sentences!”

Richard ran to Harry and Ron and hugged his dad. “Dad, Uncle Harry. At last!”

Harry’s eyes burned. Two more Malfoy girls climbed out of the car holding the hands of Narcissa Malfoy. Her face glowed and he had never seen her grin so widely.

The eldest Malfoy girl was suddenly accosted by one of the elder Hogwarts students, a Hufflepuff by the look of it.

“Rina,” he shouted. “You’re safe.”

“John?” she asked. He hugged her fiercely and she hugged him back, inhaling loudly in half-sobs.

Finally, Ginny and James came out, supporting a very weak Pansy. Pansy let herself fall at Neville’s side and they entwined their hands.

Ginny ran to Harry, her face flushed, and relief flooded Harry so suddenly, that he thought his knees would give in. She fell into his arms and he breathed her in. Surely, they could work this out.

“Dad, you came” James hugged them both. “I was so afraid.”

He also hugged Ron for good measure. “Uncle Ron, I never ever want an adventure again.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Ginny scowled, as if she had just remembered something. She poked James with her finger. “You, son, are going to have a long talk with me and your dad about putting yourself and others in danger.”

James looked positively contrite. His face burned. Harry had not seen his son look like that very often. “I wanted to be a true Gryffindor, like you, dad.”

Harry flinched so hard, that Ginny’s arm fell from his shoulders.

“James took that blasted portkey” - Ginny’s face held her ‘I am still angry’ look - “that somehow was still in David Finnigan’s trunk and he is to blame that Richard, Colin and Lizzie and he landed on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. Right into the clutches of rogue elves that were just about to become dementors.”

“Dementors?” Harry almost screamed. “Rogue elves become dementors?”

James and Richard and Ginny talked all at once and Harry had difficulty to extract the exact order of events from their tales.

“What do you mean Kreacher prevented me from being alerted?”

Ginny explained and Harry was tempted to run, hunt Kreacher down and throttle him. Not that it was likely he would find him. Not, if the elves were now truly free.

“So, what about the dementors? Why did they come here?”

“Colin thinks that they came here because this is where the elves were freed.” Richard shuddered. “…that, in their own convoluted way, they only wanted their freedom.”

James scowled at his cousin.

Richard shrugged. “You might as well get over it, James. Colin is just smarter than you or me.”

James smiled ruefully and nodded.

“I wonder what actually happened to the dementors?” Ron asked. “Was that dragon conjured by Malfoy? What did he do?”

“It looked like he absorbed them.” Harry looked at James and Richard’s faces. He tried to smile. “Or maybe they absorbed the magic in the dragon. Maybe they are free now as well.”

He was not sure about that, but James and Richard looked relieved.

“James, Richard,” Ginny put her hands on their shoulders. “We will now go to Mr Malfoy and thank him for saving us, yes?”

“Is that truly necessary?” Ron asked.

Ginny’s eyes were smouldering with heat. “Yes, that is absolutely necessary. And then I will search for my dear brother George and will slowly disembowel him.”

When Ginny mentioned George, Harry looked around to find him, remembering that George had answered his call.

“You’re too late,” he said.

George was firmly in Malfoy’s grip. He had been shoved against the van. Malfoy held him by his collar and had his right hand balled into a fist. His fist connected with George’s face.

Percy was shouting. He had drawn his wand to hex Malfoy, but Neville jumped him, and Percy’s curse hit the van, where it sputtered and died.

Ginny sprinted to her brothers. “Sorry, Perce. George had that coming. It’s his fault we are all here.”

“I didn’t mean for anyone to take the portkey,” George shouted. “David had promised to return it to me tomorrow.”

Malfoy’s fist collided with his chin again.

“Ouch, Malfoy, let me be.”

“My whole family might have died today at this very place. I’m not going to let that lie.”

“I came to help,” George protested. “Harry called, and I came to help.”

“How lucky for you, that I’m actually holding back, Weasel.” Malfoy hissed and his fist hit George again.

“Harry!” George called. “Call Malfoy off.”

Malfoy turned his head and flashed his teeth at Harry.

“The head auror won’t interfere, I am sure. His son was here as well.”

Harry stood rooted. He was so angry at George himself, but he had a suspicion that George had been tangled up in this.

“James, how did you know where to get the portkey?” he asked his son.

“I knew it had to be somewhere. I searched for it even before the easter holidays. I took the invisibility cloak and sneaked into David’s dorm. I spied the key in his trunk. I knew the portkey would have Gryffindor colours.”

Harry sighed. “Why was the trunk open, James?”

James’ mouth fell open.

“Let me guess. Elves were doing the dusting in David’s dorm.”

James nodded, turned mute by the revelation.

“Malfoy,” Harry called. “The elves had their hands in this.” He would bet all his money and Grimmauld on top that elves saw through the invisibility cloak.

Malfoy looked up shortly. “I know. They needed nine to break the curse. I’d bet that Kreacher suggested to your wife that today would be a good time for having tea, counting on the fact, that Colin and Lizzie would alert Hermione. That doesn’t excuse this particular Weasel from his responsibility. He endangered our children.”

George looked pained, but also resigned. Harry thought that he was very close to begging for his release.

Hermione swirled past Harry. Goosebumps covered Harry’s arm, where one of her curls briefly touched his skin. She went to Malfoy and laid her hand on the arm that held George.

“Love?”

Malfoy pressed his lips together.

“Would you consider letting me have him?”

They looked at each other. Malfoy loosened his grip on George ever so slowly.

Suddenly, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. George stood like someone condemned.

Hermione pointed her wand at George’s breast, a determined look on her face, and pushed for a short moment. The smile she then gave George was wicked.

Hermione took Malfoy’s hand and turned.

“Hermione, what did you do?” George shouted.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? I did this silently on purpose.” She turned back to face him, that wicked smile still on her face. “As long as you won’t prank anybody, you have nothing to fear. It’s a conditional curse. And I feel generous today. It won’t interfere with your joke shop.”

Malfoy laughed. “I would advise you to avoid finding out what kind of curse Hermione used. Sometimes it’s wiser to remain ignorant.”

His eyes danced in amusement. “You are such a snake, Granger.” He must have guessed what Hermione had done.

Harry wondered about that. His eyes briefly met Hermione’s and he thought he saw his answer there, but he could not be sure.

“Rina, what about the seventh years farewell party?” Malfoy had turned to his eldest, who was deep in conversation with the boy from Hufflepuff. “Do you want to return to Hogwarts for your last night there?”

The Hufflepuff boy began to plead for Rina to come and she nodded enthusiastically.

“Can Colin and I go back as well? And you fetch us tomorrow, from platform 9 3/4, mum, dad?” That was the other daughter. “All our stuff is still at Hogwarts.”

“Dad can take you there.” Hermione said. “And when he returns, the rest of us will leave with the van, after some recovery.”

She turned to Narcissa Malfoy. “You can join us, so you won’t have to stay here in the half-burned house.”

“I would gladly see your home.” Narcissa inclined her head.

Hermione frowned. “We still have to change the tire.”

“I should go as well,” Neville sounded tired. “There is something I have to do.”

“Or do you need to go to St Mungo’s?” He turned to Pansy.

“Nev,” Pansy held out her hand. “I’m better. Just hurry.”

“I will be right back.” Neville smiled. “Draco can side-along us home. I’m sure Astoria can handle the students on the train tomorrow.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry announced. When they both looked at him, he shrugged. “I think there is something I have to do as well.”

He called for James and Richard.

***

Professor Flitwick made several portkeys and they landed directly in front of the Great Hall. Neville strode to the doors and swung them open.

The Great Hall was decorated in Gryffindor colours. The students were lined up, ready for the feast, but there was no food on the tables. When the teachers made their way slowly to the front, the fear on their faces gave slowly way to relief.

Harry saw Rachel Zabini jump up from the Ravenclaw table. She reached Colin after a short run and hugged him.

The Hufflepuffs greeted Lizzie Malfoy with enthusiasm. The Gryffindors sat dazed. Harry spotted David Finnigan whose face was a mixture of relief and worry.

Flitwick’s magically amplified voice carried his words to every corner of the hall, assuring the students that everyone was all right, that the feast could get started in a few minutes.

Harry could see Neville gesturing in a talk with Flitwick and Flitwick pointed his wand at his throat. Neville surely was beyond exhausted if he could not cast a simple _sonorus_.

“Gryffindors.” Neville addressed his house. “Do not say I haven’t warned you about this. I explicitly forbade the trial of courage and I am extremely put out that it nevertheless was started against my wishes.”

David Finnigan jumped up. “Professor Longbottom!”

Neville gestured at him to sit down. “I am fully aware that James went against your will. But sometimes there are consequences when we are not careful enough. My wife, my friends and four children almost died. And I am not inclined to be lenient. You should have destroyed that portkey.”

He nodded at the headmaster. Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at the house hourglasses that sat at the walls of the Great Hall. The red jewels in the Gryffindor hourglass vanished all at once.

The Gryffindors groaned collectively. Slytherin had the lead now. The Slytherins stared at the hour glasses, not entirely trusting their luck.

“Contrary to my warning you will not start the next school year with negative house points and for that you can thank Colin Granger-Malfoy who proved himself true to his house today when he held the sword of Godric Gryffindor and showed courage, not foolhardiness and Richard Weasley for trying to be the voice of reason. For now, you will go down to the kitchen, fetch the food and take over for the elves who won’t be returning.”

“Hufflepuff will start the new year with 100 points awarded to Lizzie Granger-Malfoy for keeping a cool head in a dire situation.”

The Gryffindors sat subdued.

“To the kitchens, now” Neville told them. It was a tribute to his authority that the Gryffindors almost scrambled over each other in their eagerness to do his bidding.

The Gryffindors rushed to the kitchen, while Harry asked Professor Flitwick, if he could go to the headmaster’s office.

When Harry returned, the Gryffindors were sitting again and everybody was eating. Apparently, the food had all been ready, when the elves had abandoned the kitchens in their rush for freedom and the Gryffindors had been lucky that they did not need to prepare the food.

The Hufflepuff table was abuzz. The Slytherins were clustered around Rina. Malfoy had taken a seat with his eldest.

Harry sat down at their table at James’ side. A few seats further on, Colin was talking with Rachel and everyone around was listening as he told what had happened. When Colin saw Harry, he interrupted himself.

“Mr Potter. Thank you for your letter. It was very helpful.”

Harry nodded to him. “How?”

“Doing it voluntarily was the key.” Colin smiled. Rachel asked something and he turned away again.

“Dad,” James asked. “Why did you bring the sorting hat? That’s the sorting hat in your hand, isn’t it?”

Harry studied his son’s face and wondered if he had been as reckless as James. Maybe in fifth year, when he had started his ill-advised rescue mission to free Sirius.

“Because there is something you need to know about your father, and Richard about his uncle.”

He put the hat on his head.

“ _You, again. Harry James Potter. I don’t really know, why you revisit me for my opinion. I’d still put you into Slytherin.”_

“Do you care to say that out loud?” Harry asked him.

“ **Harry James Potter, ambitious, cunning, an able wizard. I’d still put you into Slytherin**.”

James’ mouth fell open. The Gryffindors around them had fallen silent.

“But you know that already, Mr Potter, why ask again?”

“Your decision is also about what people learn, not only about who they are. What would I have learned in Slytherin that I did not learn in Gryffindor?”

“You tell me, Mr Potter.” The hat sounded smug.

“I would have learned other aspects of friendship than I learned in Gryffindor. To let my friends be as they are. To better know my own heart and my own needs.”

“Why do you insist on putting me on, when you know that already?”

Harry took the hat off. “Because my son has to know.”

He looked at James and Richard and smiled at his son. “The hat put me into Gryffindor, because I wanted to be put there.”

“The hat would have put you into Slytherin?”

Harry turned and saw Neville and Malfoy, about ready to leave. Harry could not have said if Malfoy sounded amused or taken aback.

When he began to chuckle, amusement had clearly won over. “Imagine Potter, we might have shared a dorm.”

Harry scowled.

“And we might both have played for the Slytherin team. Instead of duelling we might have been partners in charms… And…”

Harry waved at him to stop him. “I get the general idea, Malfoy.”

“I wanted to be put into Hufflepuff.” Neville blurted out. “But the hat put me into Gryffindor because I needed to learn courage.”

“And it’s a good thing you learned that,” Harry was glad for the distraction. “Some people might have died today otherwise.”

Malfoy laid his hand on Neville’s shoulder. “That certainly was no small feat. I’d say it’s worth a perpetual permit to snitch cookie dough.”

“Draco, I do not snitch cookie dough.”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow. “Neither Gryffindors nor Puffs are good at lying.”

Neville shook his head, but there was a smile tugged in at the corner of his lips.

“We should return to the manor, Harry. You’ll want to fetch Ginny. And I want Pansy at home. And Draco has a – how is it called – tyar to switch.”

Harry stood and waved his wand and banished the hat to his usual place.

Neville was still too exhausted to do any spell, and Harry was still somewhat knackered. So Malfoy side-alonged them all to the Manor, once they had left the grounds at Hogwarts. It felt strange to be in such close proximity to Malfoy.

Ginny was sitting on the grass, chatting lively with Hermione and Pansy. Hermione’s daughter Meg was sleeping, her head in her mother’s lap. They had spread out a blanket and apparently, they had plundered some of the contents of the Manor’s kitchen. The small boy was sitting at his grandmother’s feet, leaning against her legs. Everyone else had left.

It was a peaceful sight and Harry desperately wanted to be part of it.

Ginny smiled when they strode up to them. Her smile was warm, and her face lacked the strain of the past weeks. Harry tried to drink in her joy, burn it into his heart to make it warmer.

She stood and Harry boldly took her hand and was glad that she did not shrink back. He searched her face and tried to blank out everyone else, Pansy hugging Neville, Malfoy letting himself fall next to his mother and Hermione.

“Now, that the dementor problem seems to be solved, I was thinking about taking a sabbatical.” Harry told her, watching the sun play in Ginny’s red hair.

“A sabbatical?”

“Yes, a year off, to sort things out.” His statement was followed by silence.

He could feel the blood creeping into his face. From the edge of his vision he saw Hermione and Pansy shooting scrutinizing looks at him.

“I wonder, if a year will be enough for that,” Pansy scoffed.

“You told Dudley, you would talk to me again, if I came to the rescue.” Harry said.

Pansy laughed. “I did. But I made no promises about how I would talk with you. And you must admit that rescue stretches it somewhat.”

“Possibly,” Harry admitted. “But not for lack of trying.”

“I can grant you that.” Neville scoffed.

“Now, Harry, bring Neville and me home and make us some more sandwiches and I might consider talking civilly to you again.”

“What about you?” Harry asked Hermione. “Should I make a portkey for you?”

He did not know, if he wanted her to take his offer.

“No need,” Hermione shook her head. “Draco is a wizard again, remember? And we’ll probably just take the van. We have to get it home somehow anyway.”

She grimaced. “Preferably without speeding.”

Harry studied her. She looked tired, but not too tired.

“Did you even curse George?” It was worth a shot.

Hermione arched an eyebrow but did not answer. Harry studied her face.

“People will believe things they are afraid of,” he finally said.

“Or what they desperately want to be true.” Hermione picked herself up to stand beside Pansy.

“Or that,” Harry conceded.

Malfoy stood as well, his movement smooth and supple. Hermione took his hand.

“How did Dudley get hold of you, Harry?” Ginny asked.

“He came to Grimmauld.”

Then it hit him. “Oh Merlin. He probably still sits there and waits for me. We really have to go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, three more wrap-up chapters to go. I hope you like how things get sorted out in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks to @marydri for reading in advance and giving me feedback!


	110. Unexpected presents (August 8, 2020)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Hermione have a barbecue in their garden - which is also a belated birthday party for Draco.

“Could you set the table outside, Colin?” Draco asked his son.

“We are in the middle of a game, dad.” Colin grumbled. He and Rachel both sat with bent heads over a game.

“Colin!”

“Why don’t you just wave your wand and do it yourself, dad. You’re a wizard.”

“Because Malcolm and Saima are sitting outside and would get a heart attack, and we still live in the middle of muggle London.”

“Why don’t you ask Rina?”

“Because Rina helped already with the cake. And she has a visitor as well.” It was difficult not to check on Rina and the obviously smitten John every half hour, but he would not pester his daughter. He would not be an overprotective dad. The Lady Malfoy could fend for herself if she even needed to.

Colin muttered something under his breath, but he stood. Rachel in her usual good-natured way stood as well, and both children went outside.

“Has Colin finally hit puberty?” Blaise entered the kitchen.

Draco looked with dismay at the empty plate in Blaise’s hand. “Have you finished all the raspberry tarts already?”

“Yes, they were supposed to be eaten, weren’t they?”

“Yes, but I promised Neville he would get some.”

Blaise shrugged. “His loss. I am not sorry. They should be on time for your birthday party. Even if Neville swung the sword of Gryffindor to save you all.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “You were early, Blaise. I can’t believe my mother did not prevent you from finishing them all.”

“Your mother helped.” Blaise’s teeth flashed. “And your in-laws. Hermione ate the most.”

Draco shook his head. Blaise was probably lying. He knew that Draco would not chide his still too thin mother for relishing tarts and certainly not his pregnant wife.

Blaise took a seat on the kitchen counter. “How do you feel about Lily Potter being all chummy with your Meg?”

“She’s also chummy with Penny”.

Luna had yet to arrive. She had taken Meg, Lizzie, Lily Potter, and her own Penny on a stroll. Draco wondered about that. Usually Blaise and she did these kinds of strolls together. And Rachel certainly did not need Blaise to look after her.

Draco remembered that he still had raspberries in the freezer. He opened its door and wondered if he would get the raspberries defrosted in time if he put them on the cooker.

Blaise laughed. “I really hope they won’t be sorted into the same house. The disaster twins would have nothing on this disaster trio.”

“You’ll stop laughing, once we will be getting summoned by Flitwick about every fortnight.” Draco put on his oven mitt to angle for the raspberries.

“They are girls. They won’t be caught as often as the Pott-Weasels.”

“I sincerely hope so. I could imagine better pastimes than sitting in Flitwick’s office side by side with Potter.”

“About Potter,” Blaise inhaled deeply.

Draco turned and looked at him sharply. So that was why Luna was not here yet.

Blaise frowned for a short moment and looked at Draco’s hand with the oven mitt and the raspberries. He shook his head and looked pointedly at the oven mitt.

“What?” Draco asked, irritated.

“Draco, you’re a wizard, remember?”

Draco looked at the raspberries and laughed. “Oh my, I’m so used to doing all this without a wand.”

He put the raspberries on a plate and reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his brand-new wand. He defrosted the raspberries with a flick.

“What’s your new wand made of?” Blaise asked.

“Hawthorn, unicorn hair core,” Draco answered.

“Isn’t that interesting”, Blaise mused. “It’s a bit longer than your old wand.”

“Hermione was …. moved.” He didn’t know how else to describe it. His wife had cried. “She thinks that I was never meant to become a dark wizard.”

Draco looked at his left arm, where the dark mark had faded to barely visible greyish lines within hours of him regaining his magic. That had been the moment his eyes had become moist. He would never need to wear a band over the mark again.

Draco took a bowl and began to mix butter, eggs, flour, and sugar for the tarts. Neville should get his favourites.

“So, about Potter…” He prompted his friend. It was so unlike Blaise to deflect.

“Potter confessed.”

“Did he now?”

“He said, he never told anyone.”

Draco wondered where this would lead.

“I sort of guessed it,” he told Blaise. “Because Potter knew I tried my hand at a second batch of Phoenix Potion. And that he was privy to some information was the only plausible explanation. But to give him his due, he also confessed to me and Hermione.”

Blaise licked his lips.

Draco shook his head. “Just spit it out, Blaise. What happened?”

“I don’t know how to tell you,” Blaise whispered.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to evoke a possible scenario in front of his inner eye. Potter with his unruly hair, fidgeting with his glasses, studying his nails. Blaise would have been livid. He could picture Blaise losing it, maybe even going so far as to actually pummel Potter. Luna with her big blue eyes and her trusting face. He tried to picture disappointment and distrust shadowing Luna’s face.

He knew it then. Why Blaise had said ‘Potter’, when he had called him Harry ever since he had begun wooing Luna.

“Luna forgave him.”

Blaise’s face was unhappy.

“And you took it upon yourself to break the news to Hermione and me.”

“She pitied him immediately. Immediately. She was crying about the fact that he has carried this dreadful mistake in his heart all these years, all alone, without a hope of deliverance. She was devastated.”

Blaise sighed. “She was also devastated about what that meant for you and Hermione. How you could have been redeemed years ago. How the contact ban might have been lifted. She cried for hours. Through three of my shirts.”

“And because Luna forgave him, you did as well.” Draco stated.

Blaise nodded. “I promised her I’d tolerate Potter for her sake.”

“Luna would not be Luna, if she would not feel pity for Potter. We love her for her kindness and compassion, after all.” Draco inhaled deeply. “I can’t chide you for backing your wife. You’re supposed to support her.”

Blaise’s face was flooded with sudden relief.

“We’ve managed for years to handle the situation. We will continue to handle it.”

“You are not angry?”

“If I had thought about it beforehand, I would have guessed that Luna would imitate a fountain, once she saw Potter’s pain.”

“Luna is too good for this world.”

“That is true enough, but I have been the subject of her kindness to my never-ending gratitude. So, I can hardly complain that she bestows the same kindness on others, even if I think Potter does not deserve her friendship.”

Blaise gave him a lopsided grin, as if he wanted to test the waters. “I remember someone telling an audience, that it’s very difficult to define what we deserve.”

Draco had to laugh. “My happiness does not depend on other people being unhappy or worse off than me. That would be far too stressful.”

Blaise chimed in with his laughter.

“Now, another awkward question… “ he arched an eyebrow. “How did the operation go?”

“All smooth. I doused myself with Phoenix Potion just to be perfectly sure, that no lingering elves’ blessing would be triggered, and everything went well.”

“And it really did not mess up with… “ Blaise gestured at Draco’s trousers.

“With our sex life? No. A vasectomy does not induce impotence, Blaise, just infertility. Really, knowing Hermione for years should have taught you that muggle medicine has its perks.”

“You could have done a spell,” Blaise said. “The elves are free. Their blessing should be ineffectual now.”

Draco scoffed. “And what if it lingers? I would not risk that. Thank you. It was just seven days of being slightly uncomfortable. And no complaints since.”

He grinned. Hermione had moved past the period of morning sickness and had reached the highly agreeable state of being in the middle of her pregnancy. Draco loved it. Her curls were even messier than normal but springy and vibrant and she looked lively and radiant and in Draco’s opinion incredibly sexy.

Blaise still looked still very sceptical.

Draco had finished the dough for the tarts and filled it in baking pans. It was only when Blaise shook his head again, that he realised he had forgotten about his wand again.

“I will probably take me another twenty years to get used to magic again.”

He shoved the baking pans into the oven.

When the doorbell rang, Blaise went to open the door, because Draco was preoccupied with preparing the raspberries for the filling of the cakes.

“I thought, we had finished all the baking?” Rina came into the kitchen and that ever smiling Hufflepuff in her wake.

“The raspberry tarts were too much of a success. All vanished already.”

“Can John stay, dad?” Rina asked.

Draco tried his best not to shoot a dirty look at that far too cheerful young man. He nodded curtly.

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy.” There was that wide grin again.

Draco heard many voices at the door, chattering lively and on top of each other. Hermione came in from the garden. She wore her dark navy pregnancy skirt. It was her favourite because it was immensely practical and Draco’s because it showed her legs.

“Oh, you made more,” she said, when she saw the raspberry filling. “hmm.”

“I promised some to Neville, so don’t you eat them all. I’ve already defrosted all the raspberries that we had left.”

Hermione edged closer and before Draco could prevent it, she had put her finger into the bowl.

“Heh”, Draco scolded her.

She grinned, unabashed, and put the finger into her mouth. “I can never decide if it’s better baked or raw.”

She licked her finger and winked. Before she could put her finger in the bowl again, Draco caught her hand and pulled her in his arms.

“No, no, not again. Once is enough.” He kissed her.

Luna entered the kitchen, and the riddle of the many voices was solved. The Weaselette and her bunch of children were towed in by Luna. The Weaselette wore a loose cream coloured summer dress that flowed around her. Draco did not know how he felt about the fact that their twins would probably share a class with another Potter child.

Richard Weasley was standing at the kitchen door, hopping from one foot to the other, smiling shyly.

“Good afternoon, Mr Malfoy, Ms Malfoy.”

“What is this?” Rina asked. “A Pott-Weasel invasion?”

“No invasion. We just wanted to drop off a present.”

Draco blinked. “A present.”

“Yes, is Colin here?” James Potter had materialised behind his cousin.

“He is in the garden, setting the table with Rachel.”

“I’ll fetch him.” John volunteered.

When Colin came in from outside, he arched an eyebrow at his classmates.

“What is this? Infestation by the Pott-Weasels?”

“You Malfoys outnumber us,” James said.

Richard opened a bag that sported the trademark of George Weasley’s joke shop.

Draco scrunched his nose.

“It’s not from the shop,” Ginny Potter reassured him. “We made them ourselves.”

Richard took out several mugs. Three dark green, two of a deep purple red, two white and one black.

“For tea.” James explained.

“I do have an inkling what mugs are for.” Draco said.

“We haven’t properly said thank you yet,” James said. “And this is a reminder of our ill-advised adventure at Malfoy Manor.”

“Hopefully, my only adventure ever,” Richard’s mien was serious.

“So, you told us repeatedly on our ride back on the Hogwarts express,” Colin said.

“Richard seems wise beyond his age.” Draco picked up one of the green mugs. “Slytherin green.”

“You really should pour some tea into them.” Ginny Potter told him. Draco could have sworn there was a twinkle in her eye.

Hermione had waved her wand already and the teakettle began to sing within seconds.

“Hot water is sufficient.”

Draco lined up the mugs. “These are not going to explode in my face?”

“Of course not. Pinky-promise.” Richard looked eager.

Hermione took the kettle and poured hot water into the mugs.

The colours of the mugs swirled and one by one the mugs changed and showed images. They were nice pieces of magical craftsmanship. Draco supposed the dark green mug that sported a white shining dragon hunting dark shadows was his. The other Slytherin mug held his mother’s swan and Rina’s showed a picture of the Manor. The sword of Gryffindor was on Colin’s mug and on Hermione’s her white otter ran weaving shiny silvery magical strands. For Meg, they had chosen blue water that fell on flames extinguishing them, for Lizzie, there was the portkey shawl and on Robert’s mug there was an abundance of balloons.

Draco was moved despite himself.

“Tut! Underage magic under the nose of the head auror,” he tsked.

“James and Richard got a temporary shelter for making them at our house. Harry has no idea.” Luna put her head around the corner and gave Draco a timid smile. “And technically Pansy is head auror at the moment.”

“We didn’t actually see your dragon, so we let our imagination run.” Ginny Potter told him. “We just saw that photo in the prophet.” Somehow the young photographer who had already hunted them down several times had managed to take a picture of the dragon. The destruction of the dementors and the damage that had simultaneously occurred on every house of the Sacred Twenty-Eight had been the talk of wizarding community for weeks. When Draco had bought his wand, he had had to fend off the nosy prophet journalists.

“I might not be averse to drinking my tea out of this mug.” Draco tried to school his face. There were far too many people in his kitchen to become emotional.

Hermione fake-punched him.

“This means he loves them in Malfoy” Luna commented. “That was a success, boys.”

Her eyes pleaded with him, as if that were necessary.

“We all like them,” Rina hugged her godmother. “I’m sure Robert will be beside himself and grandmadam will be ever so gracious about it.”

The other children chimed in, even Colin.

“The mugs will get a special place.” Draco promised. Richard answered with a shy smile. How had the annoying Weasel ever managed to get a child like that? Draco did not voice that thought out loud.

“And I have something else.” James fished something from his pocket. “Mum, Richard and I retrieved these from the Malfoy grounds. I did not dare to try to repair them though.”

He put the remnants of Lizzie’s bracelet and Colin’s ring on the kitchen counter. Lizzie squealed with joy.

Hermione picked them up.

“Thank you, James, Ginny.” She scrutinized the jewellery.

“Look, the stone is still intact.” She showed Draco the ring.

“We’ll be off again, now. We don’t want to intrude. Boys, Lily, come!” Ginny Potter laid a hand on her son’s and her nephew’s shoulders.

She smiled at Draco. “Have a nice party, Draco.”

“Thank you.”

“See you on the Hogwarts Express, Colin,” James waved. “We’ll get that house cup next year, with your help.”

“I know, you don’t care about that.” Richard added. “But it would be such a shame if we wouldn’t take advantage of having you.”

“Try not to get into trouble.” Colin waved in return. “Or at least don’t get caught.”

Ginny Potter rolled her eyes and gave a quick wave before she ushered the Pott-Weasel invasion force out of the kitchen.

“Everyone out of my kitchen. I won’t give raspberry tarts to anyone in advance. Get outside and we’ll start with the barbecue in half an hour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love to @maryrdri for reading in advance and giving me feedback!
> 
> This is the last chapter but one or Epilogue, part I. I can hardly believe it!
> 
> Thanks for all the people who comment and like etc.


	111. Unexpected visitors (August 8, 2020)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Granger-Malfoys get unexpected visitors while they sit in the garden with their guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. This is the last chapter. I can hardly believe it. This fic was such a ride. Originally I thought this fic would have 25 to 30 chapters (haha). I would never have thought that I would write a fic of more than 230,000 words within the span of a year... Part of this is due to plenty of time because of Corona of course, but also I somehow needed to write this.
> 
> It feels very strange. I'm really proud of this fic, because I think I managed to do good plotting and good character development. 
> 
> And I am so grateful to all my dedicated readers, commenters, subscribers.... You've always kept me going. Special shout-out to @marydri for supporting me from the beginning, and reading in advance. 
> 
> This is certainly not my last fic. As you may have noticed, I created a "Phoenix Potion Universe" series and I've already written a short Panville fic (Skirting the Carrows' decrees) which you can read as a prologue to "The Perks of Casting a Patronus". But it also works as a one shot. Look out for "Perks". The first chapter will come next week. It will have some Dramione on the side. 
> 
> If you have questions you can go and come into my ask box on tumblr! I like talking about my big baby, that is now an adult and is out in the world.
> 
> Which I still somehow can't believe....
> 
> If you like my fic, maybe tell other people about it? Or rec it?
> 
> I included a timeline at the author's note at the end, where you can check when the present day chapters take place.
> 
> And now I'm going to press that "post" button.....

Neville and Pansy arrived on time, but they did not come alone. They brought Astoria and Ellie and Matilda Fawley, the shy girl that they had taken under their wing.

They almost ran out of chairs, but Draco mumbled something about looking for spares and vanished into their shed. Hermione was sure he had spoken a _gemini_ spell in the security of the shed. Mrs. Jameson looked over the fence and made a face at the big party, but Draco told her that it was his belated birthday party. Mrs. Jameson retreated albeit with a frown on her face.

Neville started a long discussion about catering with Malcolm and asked about how feeding a school of about 500 students would work, and Narcissa participated in the discussion as well as her parents. Neville and Pansy and even her own parents almost blundered several times, even if they managed to skirt around the fact that they were talking about a magical school. Not Narcissa though. Her mother-in-law managed to talk vividly with Draco’s partner and his wife for two hours without ever slipping.

Malcolm promised to help her find a flat near Mayweed Grove.

“I would be ever so grateful” Narcissa told him. “Just something small. I’ve had enough of handling a grand house. I want a flat I can tidy in the blink of an eye.”

She said that with a straight face, as if ‘with a whisk of my wand’ had not been what she wanted to say.

Hermione was glad that Narcissa wanted to look for a flat. She got along with her mother-in-law surprisingly well and it was heart-warming to see her happiness with her grandchildren, but in the spirit of continuous good relations it was fortunate, that her mother-in-law had decided on putting a little bit of distance between them.

The sun was just about to set in a glorious warm red light, when Malcolm and Saima left and some of the topics they had skirted around came up.

Matilda told Lizzie with shining eyes, that she had been in Muggle London today, and that Pansy had taken her to a children’s ballet show.

Astoria imitated her sister’s reaction on the morning after she had discovered that a whole room at Nott Villa had caved in with the undoing of the elves’ curse and that all her staff had vanished. “I don’t understand”, she quoted her sister. “We were always so nice to our elves.”

That was followed by Pansy’s tale about how distraught her mother had been. It had been quite interesting to see which houses had been affected by the undoing of the curse. Ginny suspected that the Blacks had had a different house once, because Grimmauld had been unaffected, as well as the Burrow.

Ellie pumped Rina for information on the historical Malfoys and Blaise and Luna talked with Neville and Pansy about their new projects for muggleborns and squibs. Hermione feared that Neville and Pansy took too much on themselves. Pansy was head auror as long as Harry was on sabbatical and might stay that, if he never returned and together with all their ideas for squibs and muggleborns, it might prove to be too much.

“We were thinking about setting up a holiday course, where muggleborn children can learn about the magical world. But we would need a good place for that… “ Neville munched happily on one of the raspberry tarts that Draco had reserved for him.

“You could take the Manor,” Rina told him.

“The Manor?” Pansy asked.

“Yes,” Rina grinned. “I can’t think of a better way to really piss off my ancestors. Regine might love it though.”

“You could always let the non-magical wizarding children live there. I’m sure they would fume about that as much as about muggleborn summer schools.” Colin suggested.

“The Manor certainly would be big enough!” Pansy was excited.

“Find some Quidditch obsessed rich pureblood to buy the children brooms in exchange for a chance to scout for talents amongst the muggleborn.” Draco advised.

“Really, dad,” Colin shook his head. “Not everything is about Quidditch.”

“Yes, but imagine how muggleborns being good at quidditch would help them.”

Hermione stretched out her fingers and searched for Draco’s hand.

“I would never have loved quidditch, even if I had sat on a broom every summer.”

“But you might have been not quite that helpless.”

Hermione scoffed.

“I thought about drawing up a schedule for keeping the castle clean and nice, now that the elves are gone.” Neville had moved on to his ideas for Hogwarts.

The children groaned. “You mean, that we would have to do all that?”

“I see, I graduated at the exact right moment,” Rina put in.

“It won’t do you any harm to learn household spells,” Luna said. “I am ever so grateful, that my mother-in-law did not neglect that part of Blaise’s education.

“I agree,” Draco pressed Hermione’s hand. “I never learned any, and with Hermione and mother not doing any spells for a month, I really wished that I had learned some useful housekeeping spells.”

“That still leaves the question of what to do about feeding the Hogwarts students. I swear I’ve gotten grey hairs over that.”

“No, you haven’t” Pansy shook her head.

Draco laughed. “Neville, you still do not do subtle very well. Just spit it out.”

Hermione smiled at Neville’s face. He should have known that Draco had noticed his questioning.

“I haven’t talked with Flitwick, yet.” Neville admitted. “But you guessed it. I got the idea, that ‘Fortescue and Miller’ could be hired to feed the Hogwarts students.”

“We would have to expand considerably,” Draco told him. “And we would have to break the statute of secrecy.”

Hermione let their discussion wash over her and let the last rays of the sunshine on her closed eyelids. As long as their children went to Hogwarts, their holidays would have to be at the same time as the school holidays anyway. She did a quick count in her head. After Meg’s seventh year they would have one year without a child at Hogwarts, 7 more years for Robert then and an additional 3 more for the twins. By the time their last children had left school, and they would finally be independent of school holidays, the business would probably run by itself. She wondered if her equanimity about school years stretching in front of her for the foreseeable future was due to lingering effects of the elves’ blessing.

She realised that the conversation had suddenly stopped and opened her eyes, alarmed.

Four people were standing in their garden. A portly man who looked like he enjoyed food, a stern looking man of unidentifiable age who had only one hand, an ethereal slender beauty with golden-brown skin and pointed ears and a tall figure who looked as if a part of the night sky had descended. She was dark blue, and it looked as if stars were shining through her skin or maybe falling stars.

Colin jumped up. “Prudy?”

The tall figure came closer. She smiled. “Hello Colin.”

They all gaped.

“Are these your true forms?” Luna asked.

“Yes and no,” Prudy answered. “Our true forms were lost. So, we chose new forms. Whatever took our fancy.”

She smiled and the stars danced under her semi-translucent skin. “I let myself be inspired by Colin’s sketch of Elbereth, the lady of the stars.”

Colin came closer, almost shyly. “Can I touch you?”

Prudy took his hand.

“You all remember Tatki of course?” She pointed at the slender small figure with the gold brown skin.

Blaise waved. “Well, hello Tatki, you look marvellous.”

“And Kreacher.” She pointed at the portly man, who bowed to Colin.

“I was also inspired by one of your sketches.” His voice was so deep it rumbled.

“And this one has decided to be called Maedhros. His true name was lost in his long suffering.”

“Did I cut off your hand?” Neville asked.

The stern man nodded.

“So, the dementors were freed.” Colin beamed. “I am so relieved. I feared they had been destroyed.”

Maedhros weighed his head. “In a way we were, some of my fellows haven’t found their way back yet, but they have a chance now.”

“Do you all have different forms now?” Rachel asked. “Tatki, you look like a slender fairy. Are you a girl now?”

“I’m undecided.” Tatki unfurled golden, delicate wings on their back. “I’ve decided to have wings though.”

Robert pointed in delight at the shimmering wings.

“You all look stunning.” Luna complimented them.

“Where have you been, all this time?” Colin wanted to know.

“First we had a party.” Kreacher said. “The food was marvellous.”

“Then we discussed revenge,” Maedhros’ voice was sharp as a knife and made Hermione’s skin crawl.

“Revenge?” Hermione shuddered. It was as if she was touched very shortly by the ice-cold presence of a dementor. “What kind of revenge?”

Prudy raised her hand in a conciliatory gesture. “We voted against that.”

“It was a rather narrow vote,” Tatki’s wings fluttered as if in a breeze.

“The wizards and witches who cursed us into slavery are long dead. Prudy convinced us that revenge would be futile.” Maedhros’ voice fuelled Hermione’s imagination. She did not like the images that sprung into her head. “And Ekrizdis has already suffered for his even darker curse.”

“I appreciate that very much, Prudy.” Draco inclined his head.

“We didn’t forego revenge for your sake, Draco. I didn’t want us to start our new life with that.”

“I guessed that, nevertheless we can be grateful, that you would not punish us for our ancestors’ sin. Even if sparing us was not your main motive.”

Prudy laughed.

“How long did you discuss?” Hermione asked them.

“Until yesterday.” Tatki said.

Hermione rubbed her arms. To think that they had been relieved that all their problems were gone and yet the world of wizards and witches had hung by a thread.

“How much did you elves orchestrate?” Draco wanted to know.

“What do you mean?”

“It all had to come together. George Weasley making portkeys for the Gryffindors, for years, James Potter trying to become a hero like his dad. Colin and Lizzie caught up in that, on the very day that Potter destroyed the anchor at Azkaban. Rina revoking the cut out hours before I needed to break through my _scutum_ , so that my pent-up magic could be used. The rogue elves at the Manor reshaping as elves just in time that Colin could free them. Nine wizards manipulated to be there at the right time. The scutum on the van that conveniently helped to save the children. I know that Kreacher took care of things at the side of the Potters, but where else did you dabble?”

“Everywhere and nowhere.” Prudy’s smile was enigmatic. “We tried to guide some of you to the place where you were needed. And yet accidents happened we did not foresee.”

“I told you, dad, the tide had turned against the curse.” Colin chimed in.

Prudy nodded. “Exactly. We nudged, we prodded, we took advantage of some of your virtues and vices. And yet, everything you did was your own decisions.”

She pointed at them, one after the other. “Meg is always curious, Colin is always angry at injustice, because he has suffered from it. Rina has always been independent and resilient. James always wanted to be a hero. Pansy would die for her godson. Neville has been ready to jump into the breach since his first year. I counted on Hermione to come up with a solution that would prevent the nine wizards and witches involved to lose their magic. I guessed that you would find a way to unleash your pent-up magic when you just were desperate enough. As it turned out your whole family in danger was enough of an incentive.”

Hermione could hear Draco trying to calm his breath. She pressed his hand.

“Humans make their own decisions. It’s never entirely predictable,” Prudy added.

She smiled at Draco. “It was a surprise, that you set me free, and I have known you since you were a babe. It was then, that I knew that the tides had turned.”

“It seems such a risky plan.” Hermione whispered.

“We tried to ensure that there would be ways to escape.”

“The van. The magic proof van.” Draco shook his head. “I guess the flat tire at least wasn’t part of your plan.”

Prudy shook her head. “We had many discussions, if we should even try to free the dementors as well or, if we should accept their loss. And we were extremely lucky that the transition of the Malfoy elves had not been complete yet. Otherwise they might have voted differently.”

“Congratulations are in order, I think”, Hermione said. “Your long troubles have come to an end.”

Everyone murmured their agreement.

“I have something for you, Draco,” Prudy told him. She produced a vial and held it out to him.

“My memories”, Draco stared. “These are my memories.”

He took the vial and held it gingerly. Thin whisps of grey meandered deep within the vial.

Draco took his wand and made the movement that undid a tied off scutum. Everyone gasped when he undid the stopper and extracted the memories with his wand.

His eyes widened, when the silver-grey mist entered his head.

“Wow”, he said. His eyes found hers.

“What will you do now, Prudy?” Colin wanted to know.

“We will reconnect with our friends, the centaurs, but we probably won’t have any close contact with wizards or witches for the time being.”

Maedhros’ voice sounded like a judgement. “Nor will we have any agreements, treaties or friendships.”

“With one exception,” Prudy came closer and bent down to kiss Colin’s forehead.

“I name you elf-friend, Colin Granger-Malfoy.”

Colin looked at her in wonder.

He bowed. “I am honoured.”

“Does that mean that you won’t come and visit us, Prudy?” Lizzie asked.

“I’ll gladly come, if you will have me.”

Draco harrumphed. “If you deign to announce your visit the next time, I could even ensure that there is food. I might be persuaded to leave out the lemon, at least in part.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.”

***

Hermione and Draco sat in their garden after everyone had left and the children were in bed. Rina had gone out with John and Narcissa had retired in her usual unobtrusive way.

Draco had conjured a cover and they laid side by side and gazed at the stars. Not many were visible, the lights of the city were too close, but there were enough to entwine their hands and let the wonder of the universe wash over them.

“We were lucky, the elves voted against revenge.” Draco pressed her hand.

Hermione shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what that might have meant.”

“And you can’t even say that wizard and witches would not have deserved it.”

“I disagree. None of the current generation enslaved the elves.”

“But they also did not think about it, only our teenage son really questioned it.”

Hermione nodded. “And we were content with what we had achieved.”

“It’s complicated,” they said in unison.

Draco propped himself up on his elbow and suddenly his face came into her vision.

“At least, we are not complicated.”

Hermione smiled. “Once in a while.”

“I wondered about something,” His eyes were glued to her face. The moon shone on his hair. It reminded her of their first kiss.

“I’m all ears.”

“I love you Hermione, will you marry me?”

“What kind of joke is this? Do you feel the urge to make an honest woman of your mistress? At my sixth pregnancy?”

She didn’t know if she should chide him for being a classicist prat or if she should laugh.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I thought about doing an official ceremony but that would invalidate our years together. And I know you would hate the implication that a muggle marriage is not worth the same.”

That piqued her interest. “How well you know me.”

“But I thought maybe just the two of us could do it. Without the obedience nonsense obviously. A promise on our magic. Nobody would ever need to know.”

“… need to know what, Draco? That you’re a sappy romantic at heart?” She teased him, but her eyes had grown moist and Draco could probably see it.

Draco let his fingers trail over her face.

“I just want to show you that I love you. And that I intend to love you for as long as I live. What do you say?”

She smiled. “I’d say yes to that.”

“A magical kiss in the moonlight.” She reached up and let her fingers run through his hair. “You do remember now, don’t you? It was a wonderful kiss.”

His wandering hand had reached her neck. “Yet, it is just a memory. Although I agree. It was a nice kiss.”

He lowered his head and his lips hovered over hers.

“Let’s make new memories.”

Their lips touched and their memories whirled and for a fleeting short moment past and present became one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May 2, 1998 Battle of Hogwarts  
> July 1998, Hermione takes the NEWTs  
> July 2001, Hermione becomes a lawyer  
> September 2001, The Grangers resurface, Draco turns himself in, his trial begins  
> March 2002, end of Malfoy trial  
> December 2002, Birth of Rina  
> August 2004, Wedding of Blaise and Luna  
> January 2005, End of contact ban  
> October 2005, Birth of Colin,  
> March 2008, Birth of Lizzie  
> June 2008, Wedding of Pansy and Neville  
> April 2009, Birth of Meg  
> July 2017, Birth of Robert  
> January 6, 2020: Cut Out; Photos; In Need of a Wand; Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff; Gringotts; Getting Galleons; An Anonymous Donation; Questions and Answers; Shopping with the Granger Children; What do we deserve?; Dinner; Pillow Talk;  
> January 7, 2020 Observation  
> January 10, 2020: A Day in a Lawyer’s Office; Pillow Talk II  
> January 13, 2020: Off to Hogwarts, A Teacher's Duties; Excursion to the Muggle World; The Common Room  
> February 20, 2020: Failed Tailing  
> February 21, 2020: The Figurine  
> March 3, 2020: Wrackspurts, Pillow Talk III  
> March 11, 2020: Obtaining Muggle Expertise  
> March 12, 2020: Old and Dusty Tomes;  
> March 14, 2020: The Cloak  
> March 17, 2020: Goblin Silver at Malfoy Manor  
> March 21, 2020: Parent – Teacher Conference  
> March 27, 2020: Visitors at Hogwarts; Family Trees; DADA lesson; Shadows from the Past;  
> April 3, 2020: The Wardrobe Incident  
> April 13, 2020: Nott Villa I; Nott Villa II; A Phone Call;  
> April 16, 2020: The Muggle Detective  
> April 18, 2020: Inconvenient Truths; An Untimely Discovery; Pillow Talk IV  
> April 19, 2020: Awkward Negotiations  
> May 16, 2020: Written into their Bones; Conditions of Dark Magic; The Mirror; St Mungo’s; Bobbin Lace; Bethan’s Disease; Teatime; Carriers; The Arrest; Wand Core; Children’s Squabbles; Squib;  
> May 17, 2020: What do we want?; Traitor;  
> May 18, 2020: Interview with the Prophet  
> June 26, 2020: Azkaban; Social Justice Warrior; The Portkey; Just Having Tea with the Girls; The Disenchantement of Malfoy Manor; Rogues; Worst Case Scenario; Freedom; Reunion; Emergency Altert; Patronus; Safe Room Rules; Sorting Out  
> August 8, 2020: Unexpected Presents; Unexpected Visitors


End file.
